Wraithling
by WhiteDemoness11
Summary: Somewhere in the ancestry of every muggleborn is magical blood. What if Lily had sought out her ancestry to protect her unborn child, of whom there was more then one prophecy that would spell either the death of babe, or his parents? Lily makes a choice and Harry grows up with a few differences..his own hell hound, an affinity with the shadows but not evil. Grey/Ravenclaw Harry
1. Chapter 1

Wraithling- Somewhere in the ancestry of every muggleborn is magical blood. What if Lily had sought out her ancestry to protect her unborn child, of whom there was more then one prophecy that would spell either the death of babe, or his parents? Lily makes a choice and Harry grows up with a few differences..ghosts, an affinity with the shadows but not evil. Grey/Ravenclaw Harry

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Deep within the attic of one Harold Reed Evans was an old trunk. Now this trunk had seen through the railroads, and even survived carriages. It was an old rickety wooden thing that had been put together again numerous times over the generations and wasn't getting any better. Still it seemed every generation would fix it up and in went the most precious of memories. It was made out of a very old wood and stained dark from the years of hands that had run down the smooth now satiny wood. The leather had been replaced a few times on the handles and the bindings, and the brass inlay tarnished to a point not even polish and a toothbrush could bring it back. The hinges had been replaced once with the big ones from an old church years ago. It had been a hope chest, a school chest, held the belongings of people driven from their home..if some of the letters inside were to be believed it had even had the lid removed at one point and worked as a crib for a pair of twins because the family had no where to stay and thus tucked the babes in amongst the clothing and slept on the floor in a tiny little shack that had belonged to a friend.

It was an Evans family treasure. Traditionally the eldest child would inherit it, unless another showed real care for it then they would take it in. Inside were letters, journals, trinkets and even pieces of fabric that a museum would have killed for. The Evans had never let anyone outside of the family know. It had been Harold's favorite past time since his littlest daughter, with the same fire red hair as his mother and grandmother and even his own..that deep blood hue of red that was next to never found in nature. She'd gotten her mother's brilliant green eyes and it made her a breathtaking sight. Petunia was gangly but lovely in her own way, still..when Lily had begun doing impossible things..things that he was only not afraid of because of his time at his great grandfather's feet hearing the tales of their past and the legends of where their family came from.

Tales that were sometimes hinted at in the treasures of his trunk. He'd shared them with his lovely wife, Angelica had been enchanted, even going so far as to wear delicate white gloves when she'd handled the belongings. It had melted Harold's heart all over again in love for his beautiful girl to see her eyes glow in awe as he had shared the secrets of his treasure chest with her. That was the only rule, the chest was only to be opened if he was there..and he wore the only key around his neck. His daughters were raised on the stories he'd copied from the journals laboriously via a type writer. Every year they would get a beautiful new page, done in ornate script by a calligrapher on old parchment for Christmas. They were making their own books he'd told them once with a smile, a Book of Evans.

It was then he'd shown them his few copy pages of the book of Kells, and the beautiful artwork, loving their enchanted faces. Lily he would recall would stroke the curving lines of the knotwork over and over again, reverently from the earliest age. Petunia too, her eyes shining at the jeweled tones of the pages and stories of love and loss, danger and betrayal. The Evans family was an old one, able to trace their family back to the Domesday book and even hints of further still. Through clans to the very land that was part of their blood and marrow. When Lily had started having strange things happen, he had changed which stories he read to soothe his girls. Petunia was brilliant though she had no confidence, and covered it with a sharp tongue. Still his girls loved each other and so Harold made certain he told just as many stories of brave and smart girls as he did those who could whistle up a wind or see the fae.

Even when Lily went off to Hogwarts, often spending the Christmas Holidays there, Harold would send her the yearly page with it's beautiful work. Lily had written him back once, tear marks splashed on her letter that even amongst witches and wizards who kept things like jeweled signet rings, the pages he sent were always a hit and her yearmates of all houses, even the rivals..begged to see them. Hogwarts put them on display every year in the portrait gallery under heavy protective wards. That first tear stained letter, with Lily so proud of her heritage despite her differences had gone into the chest. Harold had shed a few proud tears of his own on it when he was done reading it.

On the day Petunia got married, which Lily was invited to but couldn't in good conscience attend with a wizard war happening and Petunia demanding she not bring her wand..sadly Harold and Angelica knew that the rift between their girls was a permanent one. That was the day however he gave Petunia an item from the chest, it was a simple brass cup with visible hammer marks..and he copied down the will that had been left with it. It was from just after the Domesday book, and in the days when men were lucky to own anything and not be borrowing it or have it part of the yearly wages, he'd only had this simple little cup- a gift from a wealthy friend that in the time period may as well have been gold. He'd left it to his only child, a little boy whose mother had passed on before.

It was a priceless relic with tiny crude scratches on it depicting the twisted form of what was supposed to be a horse, a symbol of power and regal nature. Petunia had hugged him sobbing her thanks. The one time Harold had visited her home he'd seen it tucked in the china cabinet with delicate crystal and china and smiled. She may have a sharp tongue but she was still his little Tuney.

It was Angelica who suggested the journal of poems to send to Lily on the news of her engagement. Neither Harold nor Angelica wished to burden their little firecracker with the sad news that Harold's heart was failing him. He'd already had an attack twice and they kept it to themselves. Agreeing with his wife, he sent the tiny worn tan journal with it's vellum pages to Lily. It held stories that one of their ancestors had collected involving tales of the land they lived on that most related to their own family. It was clumsy old Gaelic and hard to read but writing was still new at that time. That it had survived was a miracle. Their ancestors had relied mostly on oral traditions after all, so for it to still have lasted..well Harold could have sold any of their treasures and never lacked a new Rolex or car each year, but there were things more precious then money. Especially to his little witch.

Three years after the first heart attack, a letter came to Lily, just barely pregnant with her child. It was from her mother Angelica telling her that Harold had passed away and the house was to be sold since she couldn't bear being there without their father. He'd left her the trunk, and the proceeds of the house selling would be set towards Petunia's inheritance when Angelica passed someday. Harold knew his little witch with the world she was in would find the trunk more valuable. Lily was nearly inconsolable especially with her pregnancy moods and they decided to put the trunk in the Potter vault.

Two months later found Lily reading the old journal, tears falling from her eyes. Her mother had died, a broken heart had taken it's toll and despite the joy at being soon a grandmother, passed in her sleep. Lily was only comforted by the knowledge she was found with a tiny little smile, holding a picture of Harold when he was younger.

Perhaps it was in the combination of loss and sorrow, with the fear of the war she and James were now in that made Lily really read the journal. For the first time she compared the words to the knowledge she held..

It was in the tale of one of her distant relatives, a second cousin to the author who spoke of Powell and befriending a king with powerful magic. How he'd defeated an enemy with a single blow because he held his part of a bargain..

She bit her lip. It was just a silly tale, but still..

Baby Harry, and oh did Lily love James all the more for his not ever questioning her desire to name their first born after her father..kicked then.

Well, perhaps it was silly but James wanted her to leave town for a little bit, preferably to a muggle one for a few weeks while they handled a very dangerous skirmish lately with Voldemort. She knew approximately where her ancestors came from, and knew she could use the point me spell to find the graves if need be. Sighing she made arrangements. It was a fools chase, but it would keep her busy. She was just so thankful that little Harry didn't give her morning sickness.

The next day saw her wandering out in the fields..in a place that was once Gaelic lands and still held it's wild beauty. Though she still usually thought as a muggle, for some reason when she'd stepped foot onto these rolling hills..her blood sang. She could have been in India, she had no idea at one point if it was England, Ireland, Scotland..she was -home- and the very core of her being cried out in joy for it. It was a place she knew the muggles couldn't find..it was covered in rings, fairy rings and hills..forests and bogs. It was magical and Lily was ever so glad she brought a magical tent with her as she wandered. For three days she did not speak and just soaked up what the land gave her. Little Harry fluttered more then kicked, as if he was so delighted himself. It was one evening when Lily was going to fill her canteen at the nearby stream that her eyes widened and this gentle trip became a nightmare.

It was a wailing. Oh she was beautiful despite her pale sunken flesh, her long snarled hair about her ankles and her eyes a glowing as she washed a familiar wedding dress. It was ever so familiar, right down to the little bit of green beading on the stems of the lily flowers her friends had insisted on, saying she needed something besides white so she didn't look so washed out. The banshee continued her cry, soft and low and pleasant in it's own way with an echo like an owl's cry. The chill that came with it though brought to mind the dementors they learned about..and Lily sank to her knees.

She knew there was a war..but her death?..

She was helpless, green eyes fixated as the dress was set aside and the auror robes that she could never call anyone's but James..right down to the silly blooming lily path he'd sewn on over his heart. It only was visible when he was at work or home, charmed to be hidden otherwise. It was how he said she knew he was coming home, he wore the reminder of what he was fighting for on his heart. Recently he'd added a little bud under the main flower to represent their child.

The long skeletal hands washed at the robes softly, as if kindly with the old lye soap causing the blood to froth up and seem to spread more. Still..Lily was transfixed.

Until the baby blanket was in the banshee's hands...

"NO!" Lily's cry was almost a match for the wailing of the banshee herself, and the call tapered off, the eerie eyes meeting Lily's distraught expression.

"Not Harry..."

The banshee had a look of understanding, of heart broken sorrow that could only be held by a parent who had lost their own. She looked down, blanket held in one hand and the soap in the other. The blanket was not yet stained with blood and when the banshee lifted her gaze..

"Who are you, little mother?"

Lily felt that chill seep into her bones, much as the energy of the land itself had the past few days and felt she should answer. "Lily Evans.."

"Evans.?"

"Well..Lily Potter now..but yes."

The banshee tilted her head slowly, sunken eyes not hiding the tear tracks that seemed permanent down her worn face. "Your parents?"

"Harold Reed Evans and Angelica Evans nee Stone."

The banshee sighed softly then. "Why did you come here? Little Evans.."

The story spilled out from Lily's lips, the prophecy, the trunk of history in her family, the journal. She didn't doubt that there was powerful compulsion magic at work but it felt..it felt a lot like Albus actually when they were students. That feeling that something powerful you didn't understand and maybe didn't agree with personally was at work but that you were safe. When the entire mess had come out, the banshee sighed.

"Prick your finger little girl, drop it into the water...If You are whom you say you are, I will set aside the blanket."

There wasn't a moment's hesitation as Lily used her wand to carefully prick her finger with a light spell to cause a small cut. It was often used to set blood wards, which Albus had been teaching her. When the blood hit the water she expected the usual bit of pink before it spread out. Instead it flashed and went silver, glowing like the banshee herself.

"Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, child of my family though distant you are.." The banshee said softly and was suddenly there before Lily, kneeling down and those cold cold hands were on her cheeks, but it was tender and Lily felt no fear. Even the ice like touch was soothing, as if to comfort her from the warm night. Oddly, if the land had felt welcoming before, now it was beyond so.

"Come back to me when Harry is three months of age, no sooner, not later. Come to me then and I will help you save him, though it will cost you and your husband your lives. His garment was to be washed along with yours, but if you do not come you will live a bit longer..perhaps even have another bairn, perhaps not.."

Lily closed her eyes but when she opened them the banshee was gone, as were the clothing and the river ran clear again.

There was no doubting she'd be back in three months no matter what she had to do. Those lines the banshee had uttered when the river had glowed were in so many of her letters..so many of the stories. Even upon the walls at Hogwarts once or twice when her Christmas gifts had come over the years. Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, child of my family though distant you are. The blood of our line springs from the earth, to the earth we return and always we honor that bond when in need.

It had long been explained that was why the girls in the Evan's family were always named after flowers or plants. It wasn't traditional but even her father had been, hence his middle name of Reed. Placing her hand upon her womb where little Harry still fluttered Lily knew then, that it would be okay.

()()()()()()

Luckily for Lily fate helped her when it was time to seek out her family banshee. She'd gotten into the trunk in Gringotts, though she was determined to keep it there. It was in those papers she found word that apparently her family, though it hadn't always been called Evans, had been one of those with enough bonds to the fair folk to have their own Banshee. She couldn't find the name of the woman, only hints that she'd lost her only child during one of the wars between clans. Whether she'd become one from her grief, or they had a trickle of fairy blood so far removed it wasn't even to be thought of, Lily didn't know.

What she did know was when the time came, the boys with Albus's help wanted her and little delicate Harry so sensitive to magic at that time to be in hiding for a week while they set up Godric's Hollow to hide in. That Lily said she'd go hide in Muggle Dublin for a bit, where her red hair and green eyes were not so uncommon was permitted. How she got out without someone going with her Lily didn't know. It didn't matter, she thanked whatever deity was helping her and had the men so distracted with thoughts of Voldemort that the pure blooded lot didn't even consider how dangerous muggles could be. They always considered them harmless...

silly boys.

Still it allowed Lily to find herself at the same stream even with it daylight and she was almost put at ease seeing the pale hag standing there. Harry was wrapped up warmly in his blanket and held to her breast and Lily didn't miss the look of longing..and acceptance on the face of the Banshee. Slowly the banshee began to move away, Lily followed.

It seemed like they walked until dusk before they stopped at a large beautiful tree. It was holly, though the leaves were a give away there was neither berries nor blossoms to give away anything more. It wasn't a terribly large tree, Lily could probably have easily put her arms around it but it was surrounded by a ring of stones set inside a ring of humble little weed flowers, and around that yet mushrooms. Lily turned to look at the banshee and fell silent, the wailing washer woman was looking at the tree with such heartbreak and sorrow Lily wondered what memories it held.

"Little Evans..what would you do for your son to live?"

"Anything."

"I know you would die, that is what a true mother would..but would you draw blood if it would save him? Even your wee bairn's?" The silver eyes locked with hers again and though Lily shivered and wanted to cry out she'd never ever hurt her Harry..

Memories of what she knew Voldemort could and would do, happily, made her nod. Achilles's mother had held him in the river Styx though it could have drowned him, she could do no less. Child of prophecy or not.

"Then we wait. I will give you this counsel, blood of my blood..speak and think nothing but the truth, even if it is not what you wish to say."

Lily almost asked what she meant but then there was a strange piercing sound. It was a wild sound, a call, a cry, one that made Lily feel like the doe her patronus was before a raving werewolf. Every instinct screamed to flee, to get out of there. Instead Lily stood beside the dead ancestor of her bloodline and waited, the calls rising and falling in pitch. Curiously they seemed to get softer and father away though her instincts screamed at her louder and louder.

She knew why when the field was coated in a slight misty fog and the first pair of glowing eyes went rushing past only to circle about the tree. Another pair followed, and yet more. Nine pairs of eerie glowing eyes did she count, flashes of red amongst the silvery white which bled into the mist. It was the sound of their near silent breath as they raced round them in circles that held Lily silent, for they made almost no noise at all. Then there was a pounding of hooves and before Lily could blink she was gasping, a horse rearing up before her hooves flailing.

A faint touch at her back the chill leaving no doubt who it was, kept Lily from moving. Though the hooves were mere centimeters from her face and her flaming hair went whipping into her eyes from the currents of air, she didn't move. Wide eyed and panicked yes, it was in her nature to flee, with her baby..but Lily was an Evans. She was a Witch, and she was going to help her son live.

The horse seemed to step back, still on only it's hind legs before dropping, a heavy thud she felt as the massive black beast dropped fully onto it's limbs, showing it's rider. Eerie glowing eyes that were red one moment, then a turn of the head and they were white glowed under his cowl. His face was hidden in shadow but Lily could faintly make out the gleam of ancient armor on pale skin with his even lighter hair falling. What skin did show on his arms was nearly luminescent and did not account for the black expanse of his face. Until a bit of her memory from her books fell into her mind as she met those eerie glowing eyes..so unlike Voldemort and the witch couldn't help but think that -this- was power. This was dark magic that roiled in the air until you were nearly choking but it was not painful. This was not evil, just heavy, potent, thick with the tang of soot and iron.

Lily's voice fell from her and she couldn't do anything but stare, though the Banshee spoke. "Lord of the hunt, my family has called on you again..we aided you and served you, and now one of the wee bairn's is brought to a prophecy.."

The man held up a single gloved hand and when he spoke the voice seemed to rip Lily's ears apart despite the soft whisper. The power he held was that potent.

"I know. The hills are aware, as are those who dwell away from the mortal realm. We behind the veil have been waiting..but is this slip of a girl truly able to grasp my aid for her bairn? Tell me girl, what would you do for your son's life?"

The words were out of Lily's mouth before his own had even sunk in. "Anything."

Those eerie glowing eyes continued to rake over her and her precious son, seemingly through her. He nodded once and then whistled sharply and the dogs which had continued their race, apparently in play since their master was stopped, all stood perfectly still. A second lower whistle and they moved to stand around him, waiting. Lily was able to see then that these hounds were immense. She would have called them wolf hounds but their coats were sleek and glittering moonlight with hair that though medium in length was fine and even. They had red ears, blood hued much as her own hair. Their ears varied, some were up and some were flopped over, some had one of each and as she watched them, observe her, she saw they switched about. It seemed folded over was relaxed for them, and then slowly one of the smaller-which wasn't saying much, they went to her ribs!- stepped forward. The lord of the Wild Hunt looked down at the smaller hound, and the muzzle went up and a faint soft chuffing sound followed by a whine emerged.

"If you are certain? I do not like letting my hounds go."

The hound whined again, then chuffed twice before running it's face along the back of his calf. A heavy sigh emerged, then those glowing eyes were on him again.

"One chance, little mortal. The tree behind you, run your hand along it until a splinter pierces your flesh. When you have pierced the heart of your son with that same splinter, you will have aid to save your son."

Lily was terrified, but she sensed, there was something in the bones and the soul that responded. That chill touch was still at her back, comforting and Lily turned to the tree. Sure enough as she ran her palm down, curious at the warmth of the bark, a large splinter drew blood and she hissed in pain. Fear choked her throat as she held Harry, the splinter having come loose on it's own and laying in her hand. This was no small sliver, closer to a stake suddenly.

Could she really do this?

Could Lily Potter nee Evans stab her own baby?

Her terrified eyes met the banshee who gave her the most heartbreaking look of understanding.

Lily lowered her eyes to Harry's her good quiet baby, he'd been so silent this whole time and she knew there had been some sort of magic present. He giggled at her, as if comfortable with the immense power thudding around them.

Finally though as she took a breath, she did not meet the eyes of the black faced man..but his strange smaller hound. It was there, in the soft silver eyes and the faint whine, as the hound took a step forward, then hesitated, a paw in the air. It clearly wanted to comfort, but could not.

Breathing Lily nodded, then lifted the stake to stab Harry, her eyes widened as she brought it down and it dispersed into soft glittering star dust that settled into his skin and made him giggle. There was no pain, no blood, no pierced skin.

A test...

A cruel horrible test.

"I don't understand.." She was begging now but the dog was suddenly there, licking her hand that was dangling.

"I do not give up those I claim easily, Evans-daughter. That tree is no tree, and you have now bonded your son to my hound. For the time your son lives he will have my faithful hunter at his side with all the powers it chooses to yield to you. I know your living situation and so until your own death I grant my hound a body of flesh. The more your son grows in power and bravery, the more he proves himself of the warrior blood your line was named for, the more my hound will aid him. With the bond you gave him just now, he shall always hear the words of my hound as if he thought them himself..until your death. So long as it is night, I grant you the same." Those eerie eyes bore into Lily's own, not giving her time to grasp all of this.

"Make your death worthy of your line, Evans-daughter."

The great black steed reared again then, and eight hounds fled with him, there was a crack and Lily could have sworn the sky itself peeled back revealing a land of wonders her mind couldn't comprehend...

and they were gone.

The banshee stood beside her then and spoke softly. "No mother wishes to outlive their bairn. My only child was a warrior, pledged to the wild hunt and the blood in her veins for her cousin- the heir to the line- was a bard and his wisdom was greatly desired. Every generation a member of the line since Powell befriended the fae king has been a warrior in some way. My only bairn took up that bloodied path and yet took a blow meant for the king's favorite hunting companion when he was ambushed. As a reward I did not see my bairn buried..or burned on a pyre. Instead since the blow would be fatal but was not yet, as is our motto..to the earth returned. That tree holds my bairn's body, though the soul went free. So great was my bairn's desire to strike vengeance for the sake of loyalty that a new Cyn Annwn was born.."

The hound had at this point moved to sit in front of Lily, though it's eyes still seemed impossibly bright In fact the hound had obviously green eyes now, almost the same shade as hers and Harry's, but with a strange silver overlay as if they were made of marble. The red on it's ears had faded now to a simple brown and the coat had a gray hue. The hound looked like a normal dog..if a beautiful and unusual one. The fur seemed shorter and finer, letting Lily see that it was a powerful build yet still clearly meant for speed. The eyes were going from Harry, to the banshee and Lily finally realized what she was being told.

"Your child..is helping us?"

~I am.~

Lily's eyes widened as she looked at the voice, which had been to her surprise female. "I..you're a girl!"

~Last I checked.~ There was a cheeky loll of the tongue then and Lily felt herself relax.

"What do I call you?"

~My mother named me Rhoswen. To those I bore weapons with I was Dealanach.~ Lily was ever so glad at that moment she had studied some Gaelic in ancient runes.

"White rose?.."

The banshee chuckled then. "All our blood has named the girls after flowers or plants. To Gwyn Ap Nudd my Rhoswen became his Dealanach..she was no longer my bairn, but his hound even when she was mortal."

It was then that Lily realized she could see the hound better, and the banshee..her ancestor..was fading. The sun was beginning to show. "Will I see you again?"

"When you cross over, I will see you then Blood of my blood." The banshee leaned down then, her fingers caressing one chocolate ear of her once daughter before she vanished. The hound quirked her ear when she heard Lily laugh.

"Well..I suppose calling you Rose is suitable..it will distract the boys.."

The hound did not answer, though she moved to stand beside her and Lily remembered the lord of the Wild Hunt had said she could only hear the hound's voice at night. "You can still understand me though, right?"

There was an answering chuff and nod of the head and Lily smiled, putting her hand on the hound's head as they began the walk to where Lily felt was a good place to conduct apparition that wasn't seeped in the events from just before..it seemed impossible that had taken all night. In the mean time she was filling the hound in on the situation she would be entering.

It really should have felt strange..it was unbelievable after all...

Yet, for the first time since she heard the prophecy, Lily felt it would turn out okay.


	2. For love of the son

AN: This is going to focus a bit more on the whirlwind surrounding everyone and things being altered by the sudden family inclusion. I won't get into a lot of the others because we know their story. Harry is too young to think of much yet and so by the end of this chapter we'll get more from him. There will be plenty more interactions with Celtic lore, but when he's of age mostly. Can't have him going to deal with too many things when he can't even comprehend his own abilities yet. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter but I need it to move on so I can get into the changes Harry will be going through more.

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The following days of Lily's break passed calmly if a bit surreal. Harry seemed to be almost inseparable from his new 'pet' and Lily finally had just enlarged the bed so Rose could sleep on one side of Harry while she was on the other. It should have scared her, to know that she was sleeping with what was essentially a dead creature, ancient relative or not. Then again Lily figured she should have been terrified by her Banshee ancestor, or the lord of the Wild Hunt. It was amazing what one would do when their family was at risk. She'd found that Rose was even more easily confused then any of the wizard's she'd ever met when confronted with advances in the world of the muggles. She was aware, in a distant cursory fashion of advances in time and creations both muggle and magical. This was in a dog's sort of awareness though, and it took time for Rose to explain that while a hound in a very long cycle of time, she had narrowed her world to the hunts. She did still give Lily a look when the witch called her Rose, and Lily was fully aware that she wasn't exactly happy with her name. Still, if she used the proper Gaelic then she just knew the Maurader's would cause mayhem. Those boys of hers needed as little encouragement as they could possibly be given.

What did fashion, or advances in technology matter to her a dog? She was a simple warrior when alive though she had held her own magics she had never been very powerful. Rhoswen had learned to use every bit of her magic and fighting skills in harmony, that had made her formidable not some great powers. Just the few little things that she'd witnessed Lily do already were already far more impressive then most the spells she could recall from her days. Not that it upset the hound at all, it gave her a sense of pride to see her blood have turned out so very strong years later. It was what the heroes dreamed of, passing on the best of their blood to continue the family line. Lily was definitely an Evans-daughter, her strong will had been proven but sometimes even just the tiny cleaning charms she used as easily as Rose would scratch at her ears would make the hound perk her ears up in shock. The air around Lily would humm with power and it was no wonder that her lord had seen fit to grant the human woman a boon to save her child. If the witch had a mate as powerful as she was, then her little Bairn that Rhoswen was now pledged to would be powerful indeed.

Lily had learned when she was given a certain look with a tilt of the gray hound's head to drop a subject, regardless of if it was evening and she could be told such. There had been a lot of those taboo topics. Anything regarding Gwyn Ap Nudd or the Wild Hunt was off limits. So were questions about powers of the day or much of the history. When it came to trying to shove all the knowledge Lily felt was so important at her in return, Rose had gently but firmly taken Lily's hand in her teeth.

~I will learn as your son learns.~

It had been a sobering reminder that Lily would die. She knew the one prophecy, but had made inquiries to the Ministry and found out there was indeed another one concerning her, James, and Harry. Because she was in hiding the ministry pulled a few strings and she managed to get it sent to her in a secure box. Not that it would help anyone who wasn't involved in the prophecy without going mad of course. Lily had opened it and been alarmed.

"Blood of the mother, Gift of the father. Dead before three years of age or given to the dead. A Wraithling born to balance the world, or at a loss the world plunged into darkness. The hound will hunt until the wraith dies, then the building of the world will begin anew. If not given to the dead, then the dead shall consume the world."

It was not a pleasant prophecy.

Nor was it one that Lily could seem to wrap her head around, it had a strange scratchy tone to it that suggested it had been translated and most likely poorly.

Rose had needed to nip at her again. ~Actually more cheerful then when I was alive. All doom and death and blood back then. Don't think on it. Prophecy's work by making you move towards them even if you fight. We all end up dead, and it's not so bad you know? The dying is the not so fun part.~

"But what is a Wraithling?"

~A young wraith is my guess or one similar to one in powers or thoughts. A wraith is a spirit, a shadow..a ghost perhaps. Not entirely unlike my mother the banshee, and she did give her aid to you for all of this. Because of my bond now to Harry he is in a way dead. Not physically, but he is bound to me and I am dead. It'll be an advantage~

"How?!" Lily was panicking at the thought of her son dead, for some reason picturing dementors, and she knew better. That did not prevent her from going into a panic, her mind racing in a non logical fashion. She'd learned if there was one thing the hound had no tolerance for it was stupidity. This time the nip was sharp and Lily squeaked.

~The dead cannot harm the dead.~ Rose left it at that and went to nuzzle her bond mate. She liked talking to Harry. As a Cyn Annwn, a hell hound was the more recent term, Rhoswen could sense when some were getting close to death. It was a scent to her, but mostly a sight. She was a sight hound after all..though far more beautiful then any mortal canine. Harry giggled, grasping at handfuls of her fur which the gray dog allowed without even a wince. Truly she had been without her human thoughts dominate so long she was struggling to regain them. It was like waking up after a very long sleep and finding the world had changed on it's head and everyone spoke a new language. In a sense she was related to Lily and Harry, but it was so faint, so long ago she could barely taste the tie to Lily's blood. Then again, her magics had always been in the battle field. Let the others heal and comfort, Dealanach had been named for her blazing into a fight, the scent of burning ozone and chaos she left behind. That vicious determination and ruthless attention to her goal, the single minded obsession had been part of why Gwyn Ap Nudd had sought her out and jokingly called her one of his hounds as she defended her families allies on the blood soaked earth of their home.

The joke had been the proudest moment of her life. Those who carried the magic in their blood could learn to switch their form for that of an animal in her day, though it was risky as there was never a guarantee the return would work. Apprentices for those who carried magic were few and far between and reserved only for the greatly promising ones, usually males at that. Most women would be bogged down with wee ones far too soon even if it was not the life they wished. Dealanach had faced that fear of being trapped or simply unable to exchange her skin, and found she could change into her beast form without a problem but it was getting out of it that was hard and exhausting. It took three days of being in a form before she could take the other at best. There were limits to everyone's abilities, and that was hers. Of course a large part of that was probably because her beast had been one of the fair folk's creatures. She'd never tried before Gwyn Ap Nudd's remark and she surmised it had a lot to do with the form she had taken. A challenge of sorts. He did love his games.

He'd spoken a bit of a contradictory riddle to Lily upon their meeting after all, not that the witch had picked up on it.

Dealanach had been more then proud of her sleek white form with the blood red ears. She hadn't been a true Cyn Annwn of course, just one in color and build but it had been enough. Yet, upon her near death it had been a great honor for one of the fae to have placed her within a sacred tree..undying and waiting for one of her many cousins to come aid her in heal craft Dealanach though had known her duty sworn upon her heart, and that is why her soul had torn free, taking the form of her inner beast and it had been Gwyn Ap Nudd's long proud laughter that day roiling over the land that had caused the hound her moment of glory. She'd raced along his side, with the true Cyn Annwn, or as they called themselves the cold hounds, for centuries now and had been transformed into one over the years though she retained her human thoughts. Her mind had beheld wonders in the underworld that would make mortals weep.

All of that was pushed aside, as it should have been, at the sight of the beautiful little green eyes that sparkled at her as tiny fingers pulled and grasped at fur and muzzle. Rose had never desired to be a mother, it was not in her. However, this was her wraithling now..indeed the term fit him from the prophecy. He was her paw in the living as she was his teeth in the world of the dead. To serve him was her goal now, bound to him as she was until his death. Curling about the little pudgy baby she started to growl very softly, it was a soothing sound to Harry and he snuggled into her fur and fell asleep almost right away.

Eventually Lily calmed down for after all she'd begged for this. She'd stepped out for a bit, feeling odd just leaving her three month old with a giant dog who was centuries old and her ancient relative. It was an insult to the canine that was not a canine if she didn't trust them alone at points, especially when all Harry was doing was sleeping. So to keep herself distracted while waiting for the word to return to Godric's Hollow Lily decided to find out what she could about their new family member. It was not easy to ferret out the information she desired, considering that Ireland was greatly rich in it's folk tales and lore even though they varied from location to location. However, she found books on the species, and stories from locals. Much to her pleasure there were even a few visitors from Scotland and even the Scandinavian countries who held similar enough legends that Lily soon began to realize that the ancient people her blood had come from had intermingled and traveled. She should have realized it from the similarity of much of the art styles but it had always escaped her. Perhaps because the Muggle world was separated far more in ways then the magical cultures had been. They'd had their own terms across cultures for legends and powers, events and deeds, and even the deities but enough in common that some threads could be followed from one place to the next.

When Lily came back her eyes were dancing in wonder as she beheld the sleeping form of her only child and the quiet hound around him. It had been the first time in ages that the hound had a flesh and blood form that was not of stardust and moonlight, that she had a warm heartbeat instead of the ice that flooded her veins. Oh Lily knew that the hound..she'd called herself a cold hound at one point..was accurate. She'd watched them, realized the fog and mists was from the bodies of the Cyn Annwn themselves. The stories she had though, many of them reiterated a few different things. They escorted the souls to the afterlife..and they were merciless at hunting down evil. It was something the hounds were said to take pleasure in, running the evil doers ragged and into desperation and despair just as they had done to their victims. Some were bound to the fae, others to the gods and yet others it was unknown.

The tales she had been told, with heavy accents all around, were ones that were Celtic. A few were even older, when people called them Picts. The Irish had their pride, but they understood that even before they named the land they had been other people and the stories from those times were just as full of their strength and character. There were numerous stories of hounds, not just the Cyn Annwn to be told. From it all Lily was meant to understand that they were held in high esteem and their loyalty was unlike any other when they chose to serve.

It was kind of odd..for right there, curled around her son, the son that would probably bring the downfall of Voldemort..was a creature that would make any Auror become like Mad Eye Moody in body for the chance to own. Lily decided then and there to make her own life easier. She didn't know how long she would live, but it had become clear now that she knew what an entirely different existence Rose had held before. Lily would stop trying to treat her as other then a dog. Oh she was going to respect her, but it was clear that family or not, all of Rose's loyalty belonged to the boy who carried a part of the tree holding her body in his own heart.

By the time Lily returned to James and they were taken to Godric's Hollow after seeing the silvery patronus come through the floo -how had Albus managed _that?-_, she had a content gray dog-shorter thankfully then when she was first seen that night- walking at Lily's hip. She was just tall enough for her head to reach Lily's hand as it dangled at her side, with a coat coarse and oiled to keep the water or rain off her flesh. Lily had expected resistance perhaps, but Dumbledore himself seemed to like the idea of a guard dog. He wrongfully identified her as a magic breed of wolf hound which Lily let slide as apparently they were well known as gentle but marvelous guardians. Friendly and perfectly trustworthy with kids, James and even the other three Marauders may have complained still if not for the sound of Harry wailing..and stopping just as soon. When they looked over it was to the sight of a carefully standing Rose, her paws braced on the crib as she leaned over it enough for the tiny baby to grab and pull at her ears. When her only response to Harry tugging too sharp was to lick at his tiny hands and make him giggle..even James sighed.

"How did I get another dog? At least this one won't go humping the pillows..."

Sirius swatted him in the back of the head for that, much to Remus's amusement. Usually real dogs were wary around Lupin, scenting the wild about him. However the one that seemed to have taken to Harry watched him, sniffed his hand, then utterly dismissed him to go back to watching the tiny Potter. Lily told them an edited version, of how there had been a swirl of what seemed like stardust about the two when she found Rose and Harry was there. Since then Rose had followed them and seemed devoted to Harry.

Dumbledore figured if she was a magic breed that perhaps it had been a need for her owner that Harry had filled. They left the questions alone, not because they were not curious but because really any additional help was welcome. They were unable to see the traitor in their midst, it wasn't that surprising they didn't question an animal's loyalty.

James had taken to the dog rather quickly, enjoying the company on his morning runs around the property. Sirius had of course, also joined in and the first time he changed to his animagus form in front of Rose, James had fallen over laughing so hard he nearly wet himself. The surprised yelp and leap backwards from the hound staring at the equally formidable looking black dog was priceless. What was even more amusing was that despite the ability all animagi had to communicate in an admittedly clumsy fashion, Rose seemed less then interested in talking to Sirius.

Transformed back Sirius was sipping at his fire whiskey and bemoaning the fact. "She said I smelled bad! I mean, I'm a dog, everything smells and most bad smells aren't! I don't like that!"

Lily had right in front of them at that remark, given Rose a bit of bacon.

Sirius's spluttering had been worth every second.

()()()()()

Once they took Rose out into the area outside Godric's Hollow with them on a long walk and before Lily or James could fire a stunner at the boar that had appeared and rushed them, Rose had darted ahead with her lithe form, jaws breaking a rear leg and when the boar tried to gore her as it squealed, had latched onto it's jugular and ripped it open. The utter ferocity was terrifying and Lily had been shaking, even James was wide eyed but once the boar was clearly dead save for the twitches of dying flesh, the hound walked over licking it's muzzle and took her spot by Lily's side as if nothing had happened.

Sirius had decided at that point when told the story that he almost hoped Voldemort tried anything with their puppy there. Lily tried very hard not to laugh at the annoyed grumbling she could hear from Rose. Ever since Sirius had taken his padfoot form, Rose had ignored the man. Though Lily understood, it made it even more amusing and the amount of ribbing the other Mauraders had given Sirius that a female dog had no interest in him, was often raunchy enough to make Lily's face match her hair.

"I swear! If our Harry ever says that word I'm going to hex the lot of you!"

"What Lily?" Sirius smirked at this point and wiggled his brows. "Bitch?"

"He has a point Lily, it is the appropriate term for a female of her species after all. Besides, now we know anytime Sirius uses that term on someone it implies his charms have failed." Remus remarked with a tiny grin.

James had snickered at he flabbergasted expression on Sirius face, and even more when Rose went over and stole the cookie out of Sirius's hands. Lily smirked at the sight, able to hear Rose's mental mutterings as it was evening. If the hound wasn't so devoted to taking care of Harry she was pretty sure that Sirius would have been in for a lot of trouble. As it was she groaned seeing Rose drop the cookie into her nearly two year old son's hands.

"Why did I ever think I could keep anything sanitary in a house with two dogs, a stag, a wolf, and a rat?..."

"Now there you go on those silly ideas..." Sirius started with a wink.

"Exactly. Everyone knows a little dog slobber just means you'll grow up handsome. Unless you're the dog!"

Life with a dog though, aside from that one incident was very much like life without. James continued to work, Lily helped by mapping out attacks and had taken the precaution of writing a long letter to Petunia...just in case. Sirius had thrown a fit and it had taken all three of the other Mauraders and Lily to convince Sirius it had nothing to do with how fit a parent he could be. Lily privately confided to Sirius that she would rather Harry never met her sister or family, but that if the worst happened or Sirius needed to hide Harry, it was an option for them.

As Lily adjusted, she spoke to Rose less and less, which seemed to suit the dog just fine. She'd given sharper looks to Peter, but everyone passed it off as Rose never did anything. All she ever did was be near Harry or go for long loping runs around the property. It had been just a few months after the torture of the LongBottom's that Lily began to worry. Harry rarely cried, his three pet people in Sirius, Lupin, and Peter were always trying to make him giggle. Rose was never minding her fur being tugged on and because Harry would cry, Lily had made the crib an exchange for a bed with sides on it large enough to hold his dog. Really at two years of age he was outgrowing the crib anyways. Lily didn't worry about Harry crawling out, he'd have to go over Rose for that and it seemed he'd always rather pull on her fur then do just about anything.

James had even joked with Sirius that Rose was a right prankster as the first time he tried to give her dog food she'd waited for his back to turn before his entire meal was gone. After several cases of Rose managing to get food, and not touching the dog food left for her, James made sure they didn't ever have any visible.

She started not only hunting rabbits for food but came in with fresh birds and rabbits, always holding them carefully in her mouth with a smug bearing. Sirius had hooted for a long time that maybe James needed to learn how to feed his family, if even the food Rose had stolen from his plate was less appetizing then raw meat. They'd started giving her some of the nightly dinner and gave in. It was just easier.

As tension wound higher James and Lily changed their secret keeper, that was the night Lily swore Rose's eyes were glowing again.

On Halloween two years from when she had taken infant Harry to meet the Banshee, James died.

Lily begged for her life even as she heard the growling, faint and low coming from Rose. She understood then that this was to be her end. Rose was not leaping to save them, she was growling to keep Harry calm. Lily changed and stood proud and tall, her eyes sharp as she met that fearsome red gaze.

No. Voldemort was a dark lord but she had seen the true power of one who held darkness but not evil. She would not cower before this human man as mortal as any of them. "Spare my son."

"Move aside girl."

Lily could hear the baying then, as she had that night over a year ago. "Spare my Harry."

"Last warning girl, get out of my way."

Lily let her green eyes show her rage, the baying was softer..the hounds were near, she could feel the chill along her flesh then and the faint fog along the floor. "Not my son!"

The killing curse spiraled for her and she stood there, making certain it would strike her and not Harry. Her body fell and Lily felt odd that she was still standing, though she understood again as she moved aside. There was a wailing then..piercing cry from the roof that she recognized as her families Banshee. Rose stood slowly, her coat silvery pale again with red along her ears and Lily knew she was not visible to Voldemort. It didn't stop him from firing the killing curse again though it passed through Rose's body and struck Harry, it rebounded. The scream then as Voldemort fled, suddenly able to see the snarling and livid hell hound was small comfort. Softly Rose licked Harry's face before she stepped down. Lily watched as Albus came, proclaimed Harry the boy who lived and took him away. It was then she realized she was not alone. Rose nudged at her with her muzzle. ~We need to fetch your husband. It's time to take you over.~

Lily went downstairs and was almost amused at the sight of James dumb struck as he stared at his body. "James..."

"Lily!" She was held close then, and the only thing that was odd was there was no heart beat. She didn't feel dead though..

James was starring then his eyes wide at their dog who simply watched.

"Is that?..I saw a tapestry with a dog like that once..in my parent's house.."

~Let us go. Lingering is a bad idea.~ James reeled and it was only Lily's gentle hand on her arm that kept him moving as they followed the hound. At the end of the hallway the fabric of reality tore and they passed into the afterlife.

Some time later, perhaps hours, perhaps seconds or even years James finally had the whole story. His screams of "WHAT?!" could be heard all through the underworld. No one paid it any mind.

Rhoswen whined as she passed under the fingers of Gwyn Ap Nudd before he chuckled. "Go my Dealanach..you have your duty to complete. Remember you do not interfere, counsel instead. You are my hound..but for now you are the boys. He will need to grow on his own to fulfill his prophecies." The bright eyes set in the blackened face glowed then as his hound bowed her head, stealing a lick of his un-gloved hands before she raced off. A few of her many fellow hounds ran with her as she traveled along the underworld, shoulders bumping and leaping over each other to reaffirm their pack status before she vanished from their realm.

"There is no loyalty like that of a hound..." Gwyn Ap Nudd remarked pleased. He was curious as to what the boy-who-lived, marked with Solwilo the rune of lightning and Victory would do with his guide a Cyn Annwn named by him after the same streak of fire across the sky.

The mortal realm was going to get rather thrown about.

Just how he, and the others who had lived long before the stories of their land, liked it.

()()()()()()()

When Rose finally walked back through the home she was tasting the air, her mortal form had been discarded again as it was pledged to when Lily died. Now it would take feats of strength and power from her little master before Rose was able to take it again. She could make herself visible but not often, and was resolved to save it.

First though the dog tilted her head as she passed Lily's desk. Why hadn't the old male taken the letter for Petunia? She knew innately where her tiny master was now and with the chill of the night needed to get to him soon. Oh he would be somewhat hardier thanks to their bond but no babe should be in the cold long. Grasping the letter in her jaws Rose wriggled her hind quarters in preparation for the leap, it was lucky really that she was not a mortal hound or she'd have had a very long journey. As it were she focused on that glittering thread that went from around her neck like a leash to the heart of her little master. Gathering her energies then the Cyn Annwn leapt through the air, vanishing into mist.

It was later, a cold sleeping babe in a basket on the door of Number Four Privet Drive that was opened by Petunia. She was livid..and heart broken when she read the letter. Still she looked down at the babe and saw not her sister's child, but a twist of nature that would bring the wizarding world to her door. She was not pleased and ready to scream for Vernon when there stood from around the basket a hound. Not just any hound, for the term dog seemed so demeaning..but one she'd seen pictures of, twisted back upon it's body in their father's stories. The glowing ethereal dog touched her hands with a letter then, a letter more cold then the night air because of it's contact before it settled down around the baby and vanished.

Pale face growing whiter by the moment Petunia read the greatly simplified account of what her sister said. The letter held not just the words of war, but of a little sister regretting she had not tried harder to repair things. She pleaded with Petunia to take in her nephew and listed an account that would be held in trust in a normal muggle bank for them to use to tend to Harry. She knew that Petunia had always been a miser financially. James would have never thought of anything other then Gringotts, Lily knew Petunia would sooner starve then set foot there again.

It was the final words though, ones that alluded to their book of Evan's that she knew Petunia had kept her copy of. She promised that in protecting Harry, if Petunia treated him well that his bonded animal though not visible most the time save to other animals, which soothed some of Petunia's worries, would help protect her family.

It was a hard moment for Petunia, yet as she looked down into the bright green eyes of one Harry Potter she sighed and picked up the bundle, going in to tell Vernon. No she would not mistreat the little freak of nature, he was still her blood after all. Like Lily he'd probably leave when eleven..she could handle ten years.

()()()()

The years passed in a blur. Petunia was an Evans-daughter so every so often she would see the gleaming white coat of the dog that followed her nephew. Dudley had seen it too and only quick thinking by Petunia, and a really sappy movie that had been on the telly recently giving her the idea, had led her to tell him about her family having a guardian angel that took the form of a white dog with red ears. She'd told Dudley then that if he ever saw it to not be afraid, and been able to start sharing her favorite stories her father had sent her over the years. Since many she could find had powerful warrior men Vernon was content to let her read them.

Because Harry was not being neglected, he was actually fed decently though not overly much like his cousin, and slept in the small bedroom he had learned to be quiet. It helped that he had his dog to confide in and she still slept at his feet every night. Though now that Rhoswen had her regular form back she no longer required sleep, she would just lay there listening to her little master breathe. Harry had learned from her and been really amused at the sight of his dog sitting beside him in per-school learning her alphabet. It -was- a foreign language after all and she had never learned to read anything but the runes and Ogham markings. Oh Harry still had a lot of chores unlike his cousin, and it was an unusual number of them with the occasional bizarre happenings..which would get a mutter of Freak from his aunt and uncle. His cousin though seemed to think Harry idolized him and though he teased him it wasn't unbearable. Rhoswen had taught him to say things he didn't mean to Dudley that were kind, because it was clearly how to get the Dursley's happy. While he wasn't loved and fawned over he was at least not neglected, and the chores he disliked so were tempered by his hound's reminders that she'd had much harsher ones at his age.

It was hard to get upset about gardening and cleaning the kitchen, or cooking..when you had someone reminding you that there was walking to the trees or latrine pits communally some distance away for a bathroom. That all food was tended for hours if not the whole day over flames or burned and half raw, that work much harder then a mere garden was necessary if you wanted to eat. It didn't mean Harry didn't complain, he just learned not to whine.

Harry excelled in school, but only in certain subjects so when he praised Dudley for his P.E. Abilities..it was fibbing a bit but Dudley was strong, and he could move fast when he wanted to. He was still a bundle of lard but at least he was an occasionally moving bundle rather then just sitting around stuffing his face. Dudley also had an interest in math when he realized it matched up with money and being as greedy as he was bribed his father to up his allowance if he kept that one grade high, Vernon had happily gotten him a tutor. Harry preferred literature and History, understandable when you had someone from a culture that was almost completely kept with oral rather then written traditions and had lived in the past guiding you. He'd begun learning the runes first, each having a poem that he was required to memorize before Rhoswen would teach him the next. Gardening and cooking and cleaning had helped build some muscle on his wiry frame since Harry did get food, it wasn't a lot but it was enough. It was also humorous when Rhoswen would make her disgusted face when he would eat some crisps and declare that it was clearly not food if it came neither from ground nor beast.

Harry loved going to the park and running too, it was some of the earliest moments of freedom he could recall. His hound would trot or walk at his side with gentle encouragement before her instincts would take over and she'd be racing about, leaving tendrils of fog behind and giving in to the joy of running. It made Harry practice daily, always trying to keep up with her. It took years of running before he was even able to keep up with her lazy stride for a few seconds but when he could he was delighted. She had him doing other things, like when he'd carry bags for the garden she'd have him take more then one at a time even though his muscles ached. When Rhoswen curled up around his aching form though the soft chill from her body would seep into his muscles and the pain would fade. In the winter he had to sleep in layers under his blankets rather then be without the comforting almost weight of his hound.

Overall he had a decent childhood even if his best moments were spent away from his family. He'd learned stories of his parents and their friends that Rhoswen could tell him from the two years she'd spent with them. Most of the stories centered around his mother, for it was through her that they were related. Harry learned of Lily's temper, of her brilliant mind and loving heart. Of her fascination with her heritage as she grew to understand it, and her absolute love of her son. He was told stories of his mother dancing around the house singing with her cleaning spells going on, of ambushing his father and friends with pranks. There were tales of Lily trying to learn musical instruments and failing badly, and spontaneous waltzes across the room with his father.

Perhaps Harry's favorites though were ones about the banshee and his mother on their first meeting, it had been told to Rhoswen, and she would often tell the tale of how they ended up bound to him. His green eyes would widen every time and his mouth open in the awe of his brave mother. He shivered every time she mentioned his mother going to place the splinter in his heart and would touch his chest self consciously. It felt sharp at those moments, as if he could feel the tiny sliver of wood deep within even though he knew logically it had become more of a magical substance. It would only dissolve upon his death.

He was told the original claim his mother had been given concerning him, and that her actions had gained him an extra year with his parents. It had made Harry thankful. If he'd lost them at just a year of age, he may not remember his mother's smile, or that he had her eyes. He wouldn't be able to recall his father's loud laughter, or the fact that his godfather had wild black hair and turned into a shaggy dog he'd ride on the back of. There would be no memories of his mother's lullabies, or stories read to him in soft voices. He even remembered seeing his mother die, and the screams. While he was logically in a fuzzy childish way aware that he should have been terrified at those memories, it was impossible. He blamed that on his hound. She was after all, the one who had escorted his parents into the after life and it was a comfort to know he may be able to see them sometime.

It took him about seven years, so he was nine when the realization came, that he saw death differently then most. Others would shudder seeing a decomposing bit of road kill on the side of the road, Harry would tilt his head and just look at it, seeing the shell of what had once been a creature. He felt no fear, no disgust, no shiver in the back of his mind that came to most creatures when confronted with the truth that some day they too would be laying there as food for the scavengers and insects. It was just a carcass, just flesh and bones and bits of sinew to him. Rhoswen after all, had taught him early on with his own parents that the souls left and usually weren't even aware they were dead. The after life, he'd been assured, was marvelous. It varied according to personal views and beliefs but he knew his parents were not exactly suffering.

He'd looked up what he could find-which wasn't much- on Halloween. After all it was the night they had died, and it was a holy night to Rhoswen. One night of the year her form would twist and warp and instead of a ghostly dog, he'd have a ghostly woman there. Apparently it had happened in the time she'd spent with his mother as a mortal as well..and that was a story he loved dearly. If Voldemort had attacked even an hour later, Rhoswen would have been in human form. It was strange to think, that within an hour he'd been orphaned, found, brought to his aunt's and taken in. That during this time Rhoswen had taken his parents to the underworld and ran briefly with her fellows, then returned to his side only made it more surreal.

The tale that was his favorite though, was how his mother learned of Rhoswen's human form that first Halloween. Oh he knew she'd been called Rose, a clumsy translation of her name, but she never used it with him. As soon as Harry had been old enough to pronounce her name properly he had, understanding that it wasn't comfortable to be called something else. So to him Rose was the dog his parent's had owned, and Rhoswen was his guardian and hound. That night though, he was ten years old and waiting for his birthday to be ushered in. It was a silly tradition he had started because even though his aunt and uncle were not cruel to him they never celebrated his birthday. He supposed it could be worse, they could give him trash for a gift. He didn't mind the lack of celebration so much. Every year for his birthday he was allowed to ask one question of his hound and she'd answer as long as she was permitted.

He'd asked silly ones his first years, when mommy was coming back..that's when he'd learned the story of their deaths.

When would he be able to turn into an animal too? When he had mastered working with his magics, he'd have to at least be an adult.

Why was it no one else could see her? That's when he'd learned of their bond.

Why did strange things happen around him when he was upset? That had been a fascinating explanation to the six year old boy. It had delved into what magic was and that when he wanted something badly enough right now that his instincts decided was appropriate -apparently turning a teacher's hair blue in a sense of justice was- then his magic would line up with his desires and things would happen. Some day he would lose that ability but in exchange he would learn others. He'd learned of the powers his mother had held then, and to some extent his father and friends. It had enthralled Harry to no end to learn that his mother could do so much..and his father was able to become a stag.

Why did he need to learn the runes and Ogham? He'd loved that one too, as he'd learned the history behind them. How aside from the mundanes as Rhoswen called them, though she said his parent's and their peers called them muggles..that in her culture it was the runes and the Ogham that were used to channel power. That only those were used to transfer stories and meanings, that they were so old they had infused magic into them and so using them pulled on that long woven magic. Apparently in Rhoswen's day few carried wands or staves, instead they would ink the markings on their flesh sometimes with pigment or actually tattoo them on. Others would wear amulets or imbue a weapon with their power, making it almost sentient though it cost the owner greatly. Apparently only the most powerful needed a focus to help channel their immense strength. Rhoswen had not been one of those. She told Harry of her cousin though, from whom he was long descended. Her cousin had the patience and depth of understanding to seek out the secrets of magic, to travel amongst the mundanes to learn what they had grasped of the world with eyes unblinded by the hows and whys imposed on magic. He'd ventured to their fae allies and learned from them as well. In the end he'd been fashioned a staff of Willow, flexible and twined with rose vines and reeds to shore the braiding up. This curious device had been coated in cloth soaked in ocher and bound tightly. It was with that he had learned to call the winds, to direct storms. His was not a vicious sudden power but a slow building one. It took days or weeks for his workings to take hold but when they did it would affect the entire countryside. His powers brought needed rains, sent winds to chase away ships that were coming to land. It strengthened the herds of livestock and healed away plagues. It was likely that power, that worked with the surroundings that had mixed and melded over the years and manifested in Lily's technique with charms. She told him of her own raw power, the crackling of energy that would build and build and sought release on the battle. Of the burning of the air about her and the static that lifted hairs on arms and head alike and would then blast out in arcs of sky fire, lightning as it was called now. Of how she would call down the wrath of the clouds themselves and it would seek and arc along her blade of copper, drawn to the metal and she would pressure it away from herself and into her foes. She spoke of learning to push out with that same energy so she could walk upon water-though it was far far harder then to just swim- and to make her hands light up of their own accord. Rhoswen had not been a powerful witch, but she'd found her abilities to suit her and used them as desired. She took far more pride in her ability to change her skin for that of a hound, even if it was days in between before she could reverse the effect. Harry had asked her why she hadn't gained a wand and his answer had been a doggy shrug. She had not been one meant to change the world around her, she was one who found change in blade and teeth and the rush of battle. She left the real magic to those with the skill. Yet her ability to comprehend the runes had allowed her the control she did have, and those who had learned them better yet were those who had found true power. It was reason enough.

There had been the year he asked if she would ever leave him. He'd been told yes, when he died she would go back to being a hunting hound for the lord of the Wild Hunt. It hadn't bothered him, because he had realized he could see his parents then. It also meant he would always have her until that time.

At nine he'd asked to learn as she would have at his age. That meant he began to run with her daily, to spar with her in the park trying to keep away from him. He used a stick, because she said it was easier to carry a walking stick or cane then a real weapon and it would train him defensively..which he needed now. His first rule was always to dodge and run. He learned how to strike, to keep his balance, to focus on his senses so if his glasses were lost -he was forced to train without them- he could dodge.

It was much harder to dodge a creature you couldn't hear, so he learned to sense the energy currents around him.

At ten he decided he was ready to hear the full tale of how his mother took finding a human warrior instead of a hound in her place, and asked for the story for his birthday. He'd crawled into bed eagerly that year, waiting for the change that took place. Despite being a ghost, for that one night Rhoswen's form would twist and writhe before stretching. Then there would be a woman there, with a hide breast plate and breeches made of leather. She would be wearing knee high fur trimmed boots for she had died during the cold fall months, and bracers of woven strips of leather. Around her shoulders was a thick white fur cloak that matched her fur in her canine form. Her hair was long and bound in a thick plait with small feathers and bones woven through it. Tiny copper beads were also present, and spirals and twisted forms of blue and black ink covered the visible skin of her arms. Her hair was a copper color, wild and vibrant as her silvery green eyes far paler then Harry's own. Her face was pretty enough, though she was no beauty. While still dead on that night, her form was far more solid and Harry was able to crawl into her lap, comforted by the weight of her arms and lean into her chest as she would tell the story with a rumbling growl.

She told of Lily alone, for James had a case with Sirius that night that took them away for several days. Of how Lily had been alarmed to see Rose drop to the ground and twist and snarl, and then been stunned at the sight of the warrior there. How Rose had taken her and young barely a year of age Harry through the floo and back to their homelands. How a pooka had given them a ride, much to Lily's shock as the chained horse had raced across the fields and sky, showing them will-o-the wisp's and ghosts that wandered for that night. Lily had beheld fairie circles and dances, the Banshee's cavorting, the dead coming back to peek in on their living loved ones. They'd seen creatures of horror as well but the pooka had not taken them there. She'd shown Lily the hallowed hills that so many of their line had died to keep free, the fae folk hunting out that evening and the slew of fairie dogs that went baying alongside their lords.

It was the great lord of the Wild Hunt though that night, who went tearing across the countryside and Lily herself had to put her hand on Rose's arm as her eyes had sought out the forms of her companions running alongside her beloved lord. She spoke of how only Lily, and the soft noises from the babe Harry had been kept Rose from running after them, two legs or not. How the Cyn Annwn had been baying a greeting and a welcome, but it had torn at her heart.

How only the haunting sound of her Gwyn Ap Nudd's horn as he sounded the hunt had kept her upon the Pooka in the end. A reminder that she was serving him. Harry had been awed by the sound of devotion and longing, felt the trembling of her form as if the mere memory of the sound of her Hunt mates was enough to nearly send her racing. Harry realized then just how strong her devotion to protect him was, strong enough his Mother had traded her life.

It was the first time Harry tasted power, and found it bittersweet.

As he waited for midnight, and to turn eleven..Harry wasn't sure what to ask.


	3. The birthday

As the silvery moon faded even more in the night sky, Harry leaned back comfortable in the chill. It was time. Smiling he looked over at where his hound was curled up, waiting for him by the bed. He preferred to watch the sky in it's evening dance until he felt that slight trickle of power in the left of his chest. Where his heart beat, and where in a way only magic could have occur, there was a splinter deep within the tissue composed of the very essence of the beautiful hound before him. He could sense when it was nearly midnight any evening, for that was when for a brief moment Rhoswen's powers would coil within and flicker like a candle that suddenly had an exposure to more oxygen and fat on it's fresh wick to flare up for a moment before easing back down. On these nights though, the eve of his birthday, it was far more. That little comforting flicker, a chill that was like when something was so beautiful it caused your hair to stand on end and tears to leak, was something even more profound. It was more like being tossed into a frozen lake when you'd been in a too hot room too long..that brief moment of utter soothing cold bliss..before it would be painful. No, there was no pain to this cold. It was sharp and sudden but it was a surge of power that made his eyes almost close with the soothing nature it held. Harry sighed in contentment and watched. He always loved watching Rhoswen transform on these nights..there was something so much more primal and simple about it..this wasn't her taking form necessarily out of will but because her skin was to be worn as it was when she was born. It was almost like this night, the night when he grew a little more in power every year and when their bond was reaffirmed..by the nature that he'd lived yet another year, this was the night she too grew in power and their bond became ever tighter.

It was a beautiful sight. Rhoswen would already be laying on the ground to make it easier, as her fur would ripple and shimmer with it's own light reflection due to the crystals of ice that would form. She couldn't help this, when she had her changes, her body produced cold unchecked by her will. The hound's blood red ears would go back, flush against her skull and she would stretch up her front half into a sitting form. As she did so the paws elongated and the fur gave way to hands, the arms forming even as her lower half would so she would be kneeling. Her ears would bleach to the burnished copper tone and the fur would turn into the tempest of curls and braids even as it shielded her face, looking down and eyes closed, breath in soft pants..then she would stand, the exact details of the bones shifting about and making room for the new shape hidden beneath her cloak and she'd smile at him. There was pain, she'd told him once, but it was more like a stretchy hurt combined with a limb that had fallen asleep. Harry was there in her grasp at once, careful not to apply too much weight or force, as she was still not fully there and alive.

Eagerly Harry moved pillows and blankets so she would lean against the wall on the bed, her knees up and on either side of him, his back to her chest as she'd loosely drape her arms over his shoulders. Most the time he'd hold her hands in his infront of them, feeling ever so secure and comforted. It was odd, not feeling her breathe or a heart beat..but he never expected it anymore. No, Harry could feel almost like a second heartbeat of his own, the way Rhoswen's magics would curl and expand around her, as she constantly used them to keep aware of their surroundings in the same fashion he breathed in and out. Her powers were not strong. He was becoming more and more aware of this, exactly as she'd always told him. However, he also knew she could use every iota of her magic in ways he possibly never would...

Finally he settled in against her, comfortable. He knew lots of things to ask..and couldn't pick. As if content with the knowledge of his mental state, his hound in human form just rumbled softly, letting him take comfort in her body being one suited to hug him. Harry knew he could not just keep the boon for later, she could only be so open on this one evening and so she let him wander around in his own mind. Finally however, he spoke, and it was soft and gentle. "How do I make it where others can see you, or where you can be solid more often?"

Rhoswen tilted her head in thought. He was asking not as a general, but for ways he could actually make that happen. She chuffed slightly and rest her chin on the top of his head. "From what I gleaned of thine parents, when you attend school your magic will stretch and grow. We shall learn then how much is needed. I can tell that the more you use it..the better ye use it..."

Harry giggled a bit as she kept slipping into a more archaic form of speaking and was glad she was sticking to English at least!

"So, if I master a spell...it's better then just being able to perform it?" Oh he didn't know the details, Rose the dog hadn't been too interested..or around..when his parents had spoken of school much. However, it had been enough to know he would be going to school if not when precisely, to focus on his magic.

"Aye." Rhoswen smirked and loosened one hand from his grip to card her fingers through his hair, getting him to sigh contently. "Being an Evans-son the better you do, and the more you grow in various ways, to challenge yourself and what you believe and know, the more your magic will expand."

"Wouldn't it with any wizard?"

"No." Rhoswen gave a faint chuff again, and it made Harry smile. She really -was- a dog in some ways permanently it seemed. "Evans-blood is tied deep to the land, to the fair folk and the mysteries beyond the ken of mortals. So you are more a pond, and every bit you master is a bit more land carved away to get nearer the river that leads to the sea...another wizard just becomes a bigger pond. That river is the knowledge you can grasp whilst alive. Ways to use magic that is only possible from your blood..and our bond. That sea is what you will be capable of and whom you shall know, upon your death. There is too much to learn and know for a mortal mind to ever hold."

"So in a way, I'm going to be getting ready for when I die?" Harry was pleased when he felt the nod and he leaned back more, thinking. He knew most now eleven year olds didn't think of death in the same way. Again he had a cold hound. He had a woman who had been dead long before the name of Evan's, even if the bloodline could be found between them, as his guide. He'd witnessed his mother die, he'd seen Rhoswen even take small game or pets to the after life when he'd begged, rather then her letting them find their way. What it did was make Harry aware that not only was there for certain a life after death, but he had the patience to not try to learn what it was. Rhoswen had explained once, and only once, that it was a different place for everyone. Still that certainty was enough for Harry to accept death without fear, knowing he would still fight to live, and smiled.

"Well I guess I better learn my best then..."

"My master would be displeased if you didn't." It was said with a dual warmth to the tone in his hound's voice that made Harry flush. He knew she had a frantic devotion to Gwyn Ap Nudd, and the fact that she was sounding so proud of him for his decision, told Harry he was earning that same level of devotion, slowly, all on his own.

"If you didn't have to go..I mean..if I didn't die ..I guess.."

"Breathe. Think."

Harry took a deep breath then twisted so he could look his hound in her currently human face. "After everything..you'll still see me right? Even once you're a Cyn Annwn again? I don't think my afterlife would be right without you there."

Even though technically Harry had already asked his birthday question, he was still eleven, still so innocent, and his killing curse green eyes were open and pleading. They closed, leaking tears behind his clumsy glasses when he felt her nose touch his and her forehead rest against his.

"We'll always have a bond of sort..you and I."

Harry took no shame in clinging to his ancestor and crying, it was a mix of relief, of gratitude, and of exhaustion. Rhoswen just kept rumbling softly to him and smiled at the tiny form that sought her out. Her charge, her wraithling..he'd kept that fear so deep within she'd not even known of it. Still she understood. He'd lost his parents after all, and he knew someday when he died she would not be living as many did upon the separation from their mortal forms. She had never, in her doggy thoughts, considered that perhaps the boy was afraid he would be abandoned by her even with his parents near.

It seemed that even though the mind comprehended to a degree, the loyalty a hound held, he'd kept this fear buried deep..like a seed planted by another almost that he was not of worth. Rhoswen waited for Harry to finish his cry, it had never been belittled among her people to be emotional. After all, an emotional warrior who could use their anger, their fear, their determination, was a formidable one. When he looked up, Harry took off his glasses a moment to rub his pajama sleeve over his eyes to dry them and then blinked as he felt the chill hand of his hound on his chest.

"You carry a part of me, little Wraithling. You even understand that my first loyalty shall always be to Gwyn Ap Nudd and you still carry on proudly with the wound in your heart. I'm your hound too, Harry Evans-son, child of the Potter line. Do not forget that." There was something to her words, Harry relaxed and let his magic simply break it down and understand for him where his child's mind could not. He sensed then, that as long as he did not betray the ideals of his ancestors, even long after death he would have his hound as a companion..he just wouldn't have her there almost at all times.

He could live, or perhaps after live..with that.

"Thanks.."

"Happy Birthday."

Harry snuggled back into her hold, pulling the blankets snug around him to stay warm. "Would you be so kind, as to tell me a story?" He waited then as he knew any story would serve a purpose. It would not be just a flight of fancy but contain a lesson, a morale, a bit of his people's history. He felt Rhoswen settle in and then her voice began to carry softly. This too was part of Harry's learning, but he loved to hear the stories of his ancestors. Not all had been great warriors or did strange things..really he had to admit that Rhoswen, then Dealanach, had definitely been odd to become a hound! This time the story was on a farmer who was a simple man. He desired a lovely bride but found she only would have a man who saw her as his equal. Now this particular ancestor of his had not been bright, but he was honest and simple and his response to her demand had been one retold many times by the fair folk..

Harry giggled, his glasses on the side of the bedtable at this point as he could just picture him. Perhaps with the flyaway hair he had..but brown more then red, like his aunt. He pictured him talking to a dark haired beauty, both in simple old style clothing and her wrinkling her nose at his mud covered shoes. However, after her demand, Harry could just picture the same soft shy smile he knew he got..the spreading of the hands and the simple response of "I would never ask you to lower yourself to my level..as you are the daughter of a bard, and doubtless accomplished in your own right and I cannot read even the runes. I read the weather, the sick crops, and when my beasts need my help...and when to go away. I cannot offer you fine things, but I can promise warm fires and hard work with long nights of peace."

Harry pictured the girl simply turning and storming off..only to be there knocking on the farmer's door later when she saw her other suitors. More charming, more handsome, many more wealthy..but no others that saw her as simply who she was and offered her the choice with their own shortcomings. Harry liked to think he'd have done the same. Choosing a person because even if it didn't seem like it at first, they were the best match.

It wasn't a happy ever after..it was a content ever after. They lived a decent lifetime, they had children, they always had food and warm fires. Harry was reminded of the times, and that she said all five of their children ended up married..well he understood they had been very lucky. He decided then and there he preferred content ever after to happily. After all, you couldn't always be happy. Content though was a sort of peace.

To that thought, Harry finally succumbed to slumber. Rhoswen smiled down at the sight of Harry fast asleep, curled up in his blankets and then resting against her so he'd stay warm. He was advancing far swifter then he should, at least in regards to his mental abilities and comprehension. Not that it surprised Rhoswen, the Evans-blood had always done this..and especially with those the fair folk had intervened with.

"This world of magic...is not ready for you Wraithling.." She let her lips grow into a small smile at that. Her master would be pleased. A tapping at the window had her lifting her copper head to see an owl, that then fluttered off, leaving the letter on the window. It would wait until morning.

Nothing was worth waking Harry from such a slumber on his birthday, not when his powers were growing.


	4. Anything but stupid

As a note, often times things seem MUCH clearer in my head where there are some scenes already forming for the end of my stories. Don't ever hesitate to ask me to explain. :) Someone was confused and I thought I explained it, but I was apparently too subtle. Rhoswen -has- to take her human form on Halloween. That's the night of the wild hunt and her conflict in which master she serves right now forces her into her human form. She can't decide anything about that and her inability to stay as a hound will cause some trouble later. It also is the night she feels the pull to go back to Gwyn Ap Nudd and the hounds the most. On other times she -can- change if she's gathered enough time and strength how often and how long is also partly dependent on Harry. However as she's explained it's painful and she doesn't like changing. She also can't hold the human form very well. When she was alive changing from one to the other was very hard, going canine was difficult to the point she would be tired magically for 3 days. as it is she now has to focus on staying in her 'original' shape as her body is technically still out there. Hope that cleared some things up for you. Also this will in time diverge from cannon immensely. I apologize for the shorter chapter. I think I can get them out faster this way and really, this is just a filler between moments.

()()()()()

Tendrils of light had just begun to fade from the lamps outside when Harry was up and downstairs to begin the morning's chores. He didn't have to do them, but like many things he had learned if he just did them, it meant a far more pleasant time with his relatives. Rhoswen was out on her first morning run, she'd nosed him first to let him know there were a few of the people in the hospital near by who would need guiding over, and she was close enough. He knew she missed her work, especially after taking her human form at his request on his birthdays. Harry was fully aware she did it only because he desired it, he liked to see her speak and the ways her arms would rest around him. It had been a secret wish of his at about five years of age when he realized she would only change at Halloween and be restless, that she'd be like that for him sometimes when it was story time. That was the year she'd started expending the effort. At first it had only lasted for the length of his question, then slowly over the years...especially after the times he'd turned his teacher's hair a funny color and apparated to the roof when Dudley had gotten it in his head to try and catch him. He'd no reason to be scared, it wasn't like his cousin ever hit him. But when someone that large comes at you with four other boys, you run and his first instinct was to get to safety.

Poof, on the roof!

Rhoswen's comments last night had only confirmed it for him. As he explored the limits of his powers, and learned new ones..even ones he later forgot, his powers grew. As his powers grew, so did his bond and thus Rhoswen was getting able to access her abilities. Both as human and as hound. Harry didn't doubt she was much more powerful as a hound then ever as a human, Rhoswen was not modest..she was a painful realist as she reminded him after a bit of praise at his accidental magics. Then would come the sharp lessons and he'd have to use each as a sort of schooling.

When he turned the teacher's hair blue it had been a long talk on why, how, what would have been better...

The apparation had gotten him -drilled- in escape methods. Apparently she thought it would have been better to have gotten somewhere less noticeable, say in an empty class room or the opposite side of the playground behind bushes. He understood after all, this was not saying he'd done wrong. Rather it was to get Harry to start thinking of how to use his magic constructively even if he didn't know how yet. As he was not a warrior, and indeed too young to ever fight effectively in most situations he was encouraged to get the hell out of dodge.

Humming he set breakfast sandwiches out under a few paper plates to keep warm, Petunia had bought the paper ones after the metal ones had fallen once, and Rhoswen had been visible for a second snarling as she entered the room thinking it had been dangerous.

The metal covers had been put away after that. Harry knew his aunt figured that their 'guardian angel' had expected it to be an attack and just didn't wish to pester her. After all there was no telling if Vernon could see her as Dudley and Petunia did sometimes, but they had the Evans-blood.

"Letter..bill...you have won..bill...advertisement..happy housewife a little dab will 'dew' you?..that's super pathetic..bill..Harry..." Harry was walking back from the mail box with the letters, humming then blinked.

"Harry Potter...4...smallest bedroom.." Well, that was new. He put it in his pants pocket to read later. As it was he wanted to water the garden before the family ate and it got hot out. Grabbing a breakfast sandwich he'd put aside on the counter, he skipped out humming slightly as he ate. That was another thing, apparently aunt Petunia liked herbs, which only thrilled Rhoswen as he then began getting books from the library on what to do with them. It'd become a strange bonding point for his aunt and the boy over mint and rosemary in particular. The two walrus's didn't mind either as that meant fresh rosemary rolls and mint ice cream and sweets. Eventually Harry wanted to try some of the others, like Basil but he'd yet to think of something that suited the Dursely palate.

Fried, salty, fatty and sweet was the Dursley walrus's favorite components.

Before long the garden was done, and Harry went to seek a spot by the shed to read his letter in the shade. Rhoswen had resumed her usual spot at his left side by this point as he opened the letter.

"It says from Hogwarts...school for..Oh! I didn't know I started at eleven..kind of an odd time between grade's in normal school..I wonder if they have to explain the kids transferring all of a sudden?" the list and everything seemed to fade into a haze. None of it made sense yet. Instead he took action on the directions of where to go as that seemed to be the only sensible part his brain would function over. He politely took his aunt aside and explained, showing the letter. Petunia agreed to drop him off but she wouldn't be going in with him. He'd gotten a few snippets of stories about his mother and how Petunia felt left out that despite their heritage she hadn't been magical..so Harry understood. She even let him know there was a bank there, and showed him the letter from his mother explaining he had an account there. Another had been set up in the muggle world. Harry then gave his aunt a look.

"They gave you enough, right Aunt Petunia?"

"Yes they did, more then enough Harry."

"Do you ever use it, I mean more then just for caring for me?" He saw the flush to his aunts face and held up his hands trying to explain quickly as he recognized that angry flush as one of insult and fury. Vernon was scary and bellowed but Petunia..she had a livid quiet anger when truly upset that would make Vernon whimper. "I mean..since you -are- taking care of me. I think you should get paid a fee or something right? Not just have my costs covered.."

Petunia gave him a strange look...again she remembered that night when he showed on her doorstep and smiled. Things could have been different. If not for Lily's foresight..it would have been a drain on their finances. "You're family, Harry. A bit unusual like your mother, but family." There was a softness to her voice, a pain of loss that Harry just smiled at.

"Would you do me a favor then, Aunt Petunia since you won't actually go -into- the alley with me?" He wasn't worried, and he knew from Petunia's glance to his side she had a good reason to think he'd be fine alone. A furry reason. One that was taking great pleasure in cold nosing him when he was trying to be serious and not yelp. "Would you please take enough out to go have a nice meal and maybe get your hair done like you do sometimes? As a thank you? I know it's not a small drive..."

Petunia smiled and tilted her head. "Lunch I don't mind, but not a penny more."

"For the petrol then too."

Petunia gave him a look, amused. He had his mother's stubborn set to his jaw so she caved as she would with Lily. "Half."

"Deal" He held out his smaller hand, and they shook on it. Petunia watched him skip off to start on his own laundry, and how he'd ever managed to convince Dudley to start his she'd never know! Of course she would in a few months when Dudley would have gotten good enough for daring to approach his family to ask for a raise in his allowance if he took on the chore for the household...because Dudley busy meant less harassing of his cousin.

And Harry was anything but stupid.


	5. Some silly scar

The drive to get to the space between the muggle and magical world was very pleasant. Only when they were without Vernon in the car would Petunia play her worn collection of Celtic inspired tapes. Especially when Harry and Dudley had shown interest in the music of their ancestry she had finally gotten around to buying a few. Some were purely instrumental and Harry found those the most pleasant. There were a lot more she had that were written when the various lands had been introduced to the Christian religions, and they were beautiful and moving. Those ones, Petunia would unconsciously sing along to. She had a voice that was a bit shrill when she sang, and had no concept of pitch so when she should sing in one key she'd sing in another.

Harry still thought it was lovely. When Petunia sang she did so with her heart. Sure maybe she wouldn't move the heaven's in tremors of loveliness but she sang with such conviction that Harry enjoyed it far more. Rhoswen always agreed with him. Then again, considering when she lived Harry doubted many people sang -well- and more likely belted the songs out like children in pre-school songs. He imagined if Petunia could see Rhoswen riding beside them on the back seat, her tail wagging lightly in appreciation, she'd have been blushed.

Harry was agonizing over whether to tell her he liked her singing or not. It was one thing when someone didn't know they did it after all. Before he'd made up his mind they were there, he had his lists, his instructions and then Petunia was off to a nearby pub. Harry repressed a shiver that stole down his spine and made him tremble despite the heat. This was it.

A different sort of chill crept into his side, and with the infinite touch of the grave around his hound, Harry found the courage to step inside. After a quick bit of help from Tom, and no small bit of relief on Harry's part that Petunia had the foresight to brush his rather long hair -she'd long ago learned not to cut it thanks to the magic making it grow back- he'd actually willed it long so it was to his chin. The wild bits were tamer that way, and it curled faintly on the ends. It wouldn't grow any longer though, even if he wished it would so he could tuck it into pony tail or braid it like Rhoswen did. Someday perhaps. As it was he often wore it parted off to the side so his scar was hidden. Fortunately enough the scar was to the side, closer to his hairline and temple then straight in the middle. That would have been a pain to conceal. He took a moment on the other side to look about, though he felt rather out of place in his worn pants, sneakers, and the long sleeved button down shirt he normally only wore for special occasions or when Vernon had business guests over, he was soon glad for his Aunt's foresight. He had presumed he would be overdressed, if still on the casual side of things. His worn navy pants were more gray by now after all. Still he looked a little less out of place, shoes not counting. Slowly Harry blinked, having been gently nudged into an alcove to watch and observe. He was glad of it, because this was going to be his world. It looked more like something out of the television or books then a real existing world anymore. It was as if everything was trapped some time back. Tilting his head, behind his thick glasses Harry simply watched how people moved, behaved. How they looked or didn't look at others, how their style of dressing and manners varied. He listened to the way they spoke and found it was despite what was clearly words that he did not yet understand, such as floo and portkey, normal. That was a relief, he doubted he could stand many thees and thou's outside of when Rhoswen slipped into them. Not regularly after all. Even Rhoswen was swift to concur that the manner of speech had become so exceptionally simplistic that it greatly enhanced communication. Especially in dire circumstances when one needed much more in the way of action then explanation. So together they simply waited. There was a tangible flow to things, he compared it to what he heard of London. The way a society moved and curved in a city, the things that would stand out. He did not wish to stand out. Finally, he was ready and looked down at his hound. His voice a very soft whisper he murmered to her. "Aunt Petunia spoke of going to Gringott's first...can you locate it?"

Amused marbled green eyes looked up at him and one of her ears perked straight up. ~They shall scent of the goblins, yes.~

Harry tilted his head, it was rare that Rhoswen did not speak of the other races, but this one. She seemed eager. "Do I need to do something?"

He earned a lick to the hand for asking. ~Aye. The _coblynau_ are kin to the faerie. You will treat them as clan, as I taught you. To them I would let them know you are a Evans-son by your mother.~

"Cob..cobli..." He stumbled over the word and paused. "Coblinow?"

~Coblynau. But a mangled attempt is still an attempt. Ye aren't fluent, they'll forgive you. The fair folk of the mines, they are masters of the underground tunnels, of the metals and it's magics.~

Harry nodded then and relaxed. He knew a lot of the fairies. They weren't tiny and winged so much as they were pre-Christianity considered sort of how the Greek's viewed their plethora of the demi-gods and those with power. Some were even powerful enough to have been considered like deities. The fairies had extended lifespan's but could look entirely human, or anything but. One thing that had always been drilled into Harry though was all fae were to be treated with exceptional respect. They were swift to anger and very slow to forgive. Their grudges were legendary, and since his bloodline had so many encounters with the fae of all sorts, he would be judged much more strictly then any others. It was almost frightening to think he could have not been aware of that fact and permanently damaged his chances. Gesturing he was ready, he began a slow walk in their direction. Gringott's was stunning. He stared, open mouthed and unashamed at the beauty of the architecture. Heedless of the muttering as wizards passed by, and the odd looks he received from the Goblin's present he marveled at the building. It was the only reason he didn't even so much as nod at the Goblin guard, and since Rhoswen saw it was out of sheer awe, which the goblin's were noticing attentively, she let him do so. That look of amazement only increased once inside. Once again Harry stopped, his breathing did as well as he just stared around, and then up. Did no one look at the ceiling? The beautiful paintings done in very soft gray tones so that it almost blended. It was a masterwork, Michelangelo would have wept and fallen on his knees. Color would have only cheapened the effect. It was grays and pale silvers, charcoal and heather. As it was Harry leaned against the nearest pillar, taking his glasses off to clean them and then stare up.

"Oh...wow..."

Rhoswen tilted her head, but her vision was not mortal any longer. She saw the images, true. However Rhoswen had lived so long underhill, in the life beyond that such works of art were to her, common. She appreciated them and those whom could create them but to her there was just as much beauty in the rough and the natural. Still she patiently sat, aware every goblin there could see her. She took no shame in observing them, as the bank stuttered, though she doubted a single human wizard took note. It was unusual, Harry's reaction. So much so that he was completely unnoticed by the hustle and bustle of the other customer's who pretended there wasn't a child staring rapturously up at a simple ceiling. They did not see the figures, the landscapes, the history that was told in the paintings above them. Not even though the history clearly went back, and told of places and lands, of legends long forgotten. Harry only ceased his wonder filled gazing when he heard a soft clearing of a throat. Turning he came face to face with a smaller man about his height, his form was wiry and his ears larger and pointed. A goblin. Immeadiately, and without having any intention of it Harry smiled largely, his eyes still shining.

"I'm sorry but..have you looked up? It's..it's..." He shook his head then a giddy expression on him. The goblin was far from being offended, instead his honest awe and absorbtion in their work made the Goblin relax and he nodded.

"It was a masterwork of several lifetimes..and many artists. Very few ever notice, even if they look up. But I suspect from your surprise, you did not come here for gazing at that.." It was a politely said way of asking what the child was doing there. For goblin's cared for business, and this child was strange in his company.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Forgive me, it's not often I find something so intricate..it sort of felt like it struck inside. Pardon my babbling.." Harry blushed then, unsure why he was being so utterly clumsy at the moment, then he figured it out.

_T__h__e coblynau are kin to the faerie._

They felt like Rhoswen. Not exactly, but that same whirling to his magic that made him feel at home. Smiling again he shrugged. "My name is Harry Potter.." He paused then. How did one properly introduce your mother's ancestry?

Rhoswen chuckled at hearing his plight. ~I am Harry James Potter Evans-son, my mother was Lily Potter and from her I claim the blood of the Evan's line. I am green and untried but I know the debt and the payment of my line. I beseech of the coblynau legendary forgiveness as I learn of my place in your world.~

Without thinking Harry gave Rhoswen a look. "That seems awfully floral and the coblynau strike me as far more sensible then to need that.." His eyes went large then realizing what he'd said and he turned. Well the damage was done judging from the look of shock on the goblin's face. Harry didn't even think about the thought that he'd called them coblynau properly with the correct inflection once he wasn't focusing on it. Sensing the discomfort of the young wizard, and the enigma that little did he know had the attention of every goblin within Gringott's and it's underground the goblin politely helped out the fidgeting wizard.

"What did she tell you to say, Harry Potter? Floral or not." The eyes only gained a sharpness as the boy ceased fidgeting and repeated the old lines. He didn't even seem to realize he was invoking his power as a witness. Invoking his blood. That spoke of power, of honesty. As if the presence of a Cyn Annwn did not! As the young wizard finished and simply watched him the goblin felt himself tempted to break out into a smile. Even the late Lily Potter, though proud of her blood had never truly understood it. They had all been waiting, eager to see if she'd know, if she'd understand. She'd died, as so many of her previous relatives in the prior six hundred years had. Of those only a few had ever learned anything, and usually long after they had been in Hogwart's.

"Deep coffers to you, Evans-son. Do you have a key?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid I do not..do you require proof?"

The goblin could not help it, he laughed. It was a nasty vicious cold sound, and yet much as the chill of Rhoswen's fur and fog, it was not a sound that upset Harry though he could see out the side of his view no small number of the wizard and witch community shy away. Eager bloodthirsty gazes met him from all the goblins there, and he rather suspected the enhanced auditory capacity to accompany their substantial ears. No, while the rest of the mortals shied away from the sound of a fae cackling in delight, Rhoswen was pleased that Harry simply watched, a tiny smile on his face, his body relaxed. It was like watching a misguided relative playing with fireworks in the backyard and no precaution. You certainly weren't going to tell them to do otherwise, and you were not in danger. Almost more pleased at his reaction the goblin inclined his head.

"Your words and your..companion speak far more eloquently then a key or some silly scar ever could, Evans-son." The goblin was now in surprise at the delighted childish laugh that came from Harry.

"You can see her? I mean, really see her? I thought no one else really could! I.." He paused then, his brain catching up with him. He was only newly eleven after all and sometimes he did act his age. "Oh..of course. You're the coblynau, and she's Cyn Annwn..so you are sort of distant relatives and your magics whirl similarly.." He was muttering it softly but it only pleased the ears of those who knew to listen.

"Let us take you to your vault, we'll have a new proper key made for you." The goblin was rolling his eyes as he accompanied the boy-who-lived to the cart, he would ride along. They would harass lesser wizards and witches, but the boy, and his hound, were allies. They would not slight them. It was no surprise that aside from a few curious eyes, the humans were too wrapped up in their own affairs to even notice. Every single goblin however, did. And with the monitoring systems they had, it would be spread within the entire nation of Goblin's shortly, and even their international branches..that an old allies blood had risen true, they would wait to see if it ran that way. Once in the cart, Rhoswen seemed completely unconcerned at the speed. She -was- dead after all. Harry was delighted at it and crowed softly, the courage of his blood eagerly shifting to the surface.

"Can we go faster?"

Both goblin's cackled this time and the cart then careened around the edges at such speeds sparks flew from the wheels, the metal creaked and screamed in protest and Harry had to hold onto his glasses, chortling.

He was pleased beyond measure seeing all the gold. However, he was wondering. "Does it just sit here? I mean.." He thought back, to some of the talks his aunt and uncle had held. "Interest?..I think that's it..."

The goblin eyed him and nodded. "It has been sitting here. It is enough to last a wizard's lifetime or three if he was careful. Some lord's permit us to use their funds in profitable ventures, but there is a risk so few others do."

Harry looked at the goblin, he did not know his name and he had not offered it. Rhoswen had told him a long time back that those who were important never introduced themselves. It would be a slight to ask. "Do you have to invest the entire thing? Could you invest just a portion?"

The goblin shook his head. "You're a whip. Strike at a small space at lightning. Are you giving permission?"

Harry tilted his head, then looked at Rhoswen. "Is there -any- reason I should not trust the coblynau without reservations? At all?"

He didn't think they would take offense, and he was proven right, because his first instinct was to trust them and he was only checking with one who understood the fae better. One who was kindred, Rhoswen wagged her tail, exceptionally pleased with her bairn for his instincts. The Evans-blood was rising up around those it recognized, in time, he would be a force with his instincts. Then again, she had always honed hers until they were a weapon in and of themselves it was only natural Harry would start to pick that up.

~Do not betray them, and they shall always be true to you. Cold and sharp, and they will never pad the truth even for your comfort.~

Harry turned to the goblin then and smiled widely. "You have my complete faith, as does Gringott's. Master Coblynau, I entrust my funds to you and yours to invest and profit for all of us."

The goblin, and from his place in the cart the other one as well were all so startled, and pleased, their ears actually wiggled a little. They never told their investors that yes, losses happened, however Gringott's prided itself on making money not losing it and so while there were sometimes substantial losses they always made sure, given enough time, to make more then triple what had been lost. It was merely a pity most wizards despite being able to live two to three times the span of a non magical human, thought just as short term.

"Your gold shall vastly increase, Evans-son."

With that Harry filled his bag and returned to the surface. He had questions, oh did he have them, yet Rhoswen had not encouraged him and he had the feeling it was not time to ask. He would learn in time and on his own. After all, that was part of dealing with the faerie.

Elated and pleased he left the bank humming softly, his hand dangling just enough to occasionally brush against Rhoswen as they walked. The other supplies were gained quietly as no other students were shopping so early. He got the feeling most of them would show up come weekend. Not everyone had a stay at home aunt to drive them, and an uncle who profited enough at his drilling business that the suggestion of a day to go see a local rugby game with his son allowed him a day off. Once Petunia had learned that her two boys would be out until that evening, she had batted her eyelashes at Vernon and gotten permission for spending the few hours Harry would be shopping at a tiny salon after her lunch. All in all..it was perfect. Harry acquired everything swiftly and quietly, and then hummed seeing there were only two more things.

A pet.

A wand.

He was dragging his trunk filled with all other things behind him, glad he'd thought to ask if any had wheels like the luggage his uncle used for business trips. He intended to get a good padlock for it too. Maybe one that you needed to enter the numbers or a word for?

"Which one first? A cat..a toad..? Ew..or a owl. I don't get it.."

~Cat's do not require much, and thus are easy to tend to. A toad stays in his cage. My suspicion is the owl's are the mail pigeons of the wizarding world.~ Rhoswen was highly amused at the expression's Harry made to each.

"Well I guess an owl then.."

~Mmm I surmise the school will provide them. I believe your mother mentioned as much at some point.~

"Well then I best not bring one, I suppose then if someone sees you I can try to argue the pet clause since obviously I will never leave you behind."

~Probably a smart move. Perhaps though you'd like a toad? You know if you kiss it..~

Rhoswen barked a laugh at the look she got. No, no animal it was. Probably for the best.

"In case of a real emergency you could take a letter couldn't you?"

~Do not consider me your pet pigeon, but yes if I knew the person. And you were not in danger of course. Enough I suppose..but if they were not in their usual residence, no.~

"Good enough for me! I can't imagine I want to write to Aunt and Uncle that often anyways, and if I end up good friends I can get one over the vacation or later...So a wand...I'm completely picturing one with a star on the end..like that pink witch in Oz.."


	6. The wands

WD I hope this surprises you. It sure did me! This is a VERY lighthearted chapter, but it sets up some important things. Sorry it refused to come out more detailed or more serious, then again I'm rather itching to get him TO Hogwarts so that will be the next chapter. I didn't wish to leave you waiting. I had my old injury flare up which renders my left arm to my finger tips useless so I have been unable to type. Enjoy.

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As it turned out, Olivander was not going to likely give him a pink wand with a pretty star on the end. Instead he muttered and murmured and measured and thrust twigs of all different decorations and colors into his hands. Harry started to enjoy things breaking and lighting on fire and the huge noises. It was exhausting, but it was fun.

Rhoswen was jumping about, barking silently and highly amused as they all but brought the shop down. Despite his odd eyes, Olivander apparently could not see Rhoswen, which kind of amused Harry. Wand after wand, and destruction after comical destruction continued until there was pretty much not a single box unturned.

He'd not even missed the teary eyes and sniffles as the wand box covered in dust he'd brought back with many an attempted bit of ominous muttering had just felt like wood in his hands. Actually the phoenix and holly wand had pretty much leapt -out- of his hands. Harry kind of pictured it like a tiny hairless dog yiping in fear.

Looking utterly defeated, Olivander looked around..a broken man. "I..I don't understand..."

Rhoswen sat beside him, and that was when the idea came to Harry. He put his hand over his heart,where the ever cold comfort of the shard of Rhoswen's tree beat with the muscle of his heart within his chest, keeping a tiny curl of cold that would randomly rush through his veins.

"Oh!"

Harry got a far off look as Rhoswen and Olivander both turned to him, hand still in place as he repeated softer. "oh...the wand..chooses the wizard..but I'm not just a wizard.."

Rhoswen tilted her head, though she caught on too. In her day she'd not been given a wand so the idea of using one for magic was foreign to her. ~Because you are bonded to -me-. I give you permission to tell him Harry, my guess is we are unique. Make him swear to keep it a secret first though.~

Harry tilted his had and looked at Olivander. "Can you swear to keep a secret sir? I mean it, it's very important no one learns.."

Normally Olivander may have brushed it off. However, the green eyes were pleading, not a signle wand had worked. Sighing he nodded and his own wand lit up with the oath and Harry's eyes went wide.

"What was THAT?"

Olivander blinked then smiled. "A wizard's oath. My magic will ascertain I do not tell another soul."

"Ohh...I would have trusted your word."

Absolute stunned silence came from Olivander at the naïve remark, and something far more binding then magic touched the old man. He'd not been blatantly trusted like that by a wizard who would be so powerful before..and he'd lived far longer then he ever let on. "Come to the back, I'll put on some tea while you tell your story.."

Harry was delighted that in the back was no musty shop, but a plush soft couch and he gleefully bounced on it a few times, making Olivander laugh, before his eyes caught something.

The clothing by Harry's arm...moved.

Harry bent his head and whispered and then slowly, with the slow encroachment of fog on a sweltering night, just barely a form was visible. A hound, glistening with the ephemeral shimmer like a Patronus but with the soft glint of thousands of shards of glass..and tinted green orbs stared at him calmly. It was not a clear image, but it was there.

Harry shrugged and smiled. "Sorry, she has a hard time being visible to many..."

Olivander looked and looked..and the chill swept the room. It was not unlike a dementor but this chill, this touch of death and decay and time that waited for none, was oddly comforting.

"Cyn Annwn..."

"Yep!" Harry smiled and Olivander sat down with his moon eyes wide and sensed, this was going to be a tale.

Harry was well aware that this was in it's own way, a test by Rhoswen. She'd taught him to be able to recite tales as they did in her day and so he began. He told of the cold night when the Wild Hunt ran and a brave red headed woman brought her babe, following a banshee's promise. Harry's voice spoke of the wailing winds, the glowing lights, the eyes that followed but were not seen. He spoke of the trails that came and vanished but with the mortal witch and mother too focused on her task to notice. Harry spoke of how she went underhill without ever realizing she'd even gone through a door, led by the banshee she met a washing the clothes of her little one. He told of the tree holding the preserved form of a body alive of one of his ancestors though her soul had fled. He spoke of the fae ring around the tree, of pleasant mushrooms of colors and markings that the eyes could not understand. Harry softened his voice and spoke of a terrible black horse with eyes of flame and blood, the rider darker still with a presence and power that made the air unbearable and bowed the necks of lesser beings. Not the red haired witch. How hooves clipped her hair and the earth splattered against her skin, the baying of hounds that followed. The chill of the dark power that was not evil, sharp and vicious as the bite of a wolf but not the toying cruelty of man. He spoke of a promise, a chance, a glimmer of compassion. Of the splinter lodged within his heart,of an oath of service until death. Of hope and joy and the terrible cold that wrapped him in comfort and security. He left out the prophecy, the way he survived the killing curse. That was not what mattered here. Rhoswen listened, quite pleased with the way Harry was getting into the story. His hands wove about, his eyes danced and he lifted his voice and then alternated it to soft whispers according to the mood he wanted to set.

He would never be a bard, but he was good. She was well aware her tail was wagging and ears were pricked hanging on his words...and she knew the story! "So that.." Harry said, his voice softly breathless as he had never tried to tell the story in one sitting. "Is why I'm not -just- a wizard. My hound, part of her is in me."

Olivander had not even realized his tea was cold. With tiny crystals of ice thanks to the presence of the aforementioned hound. He sat back in awe. "Incredible...just..that your mother..I knew she was brilliant..especially suited for charms.." He shook his head then and a tiny shiver ran down his spine, one of absolute pleasure that he was to make a wand for such a wizard, for the legacy of such a witch! He'd made wands for the dark lord, and many a great Wizard and many a coward. Yet, he'd never dreamed he would make a wand for a legend. This was the stuff of Merlin, of the many wise men and women faded into the annals of time and cultures. Of languages that left behind only clues and images.

This was a legacy.

"Perhaps then, Harry Potter Evans-son, it is that the wands are all too young for you. Yes, yes that would do it. From what you've said it's why you seem so aged beyond your years. Your bond woke your blood, there is magic in blood you know. Great magic in the blood. That's why the purebloods are so full of themselves. There is power passed down along the veins that with the right ones, the right power, can unlock knowledge. Sometimes it's too much and too far beyond the ken of a wizard or a witch. That's why the purebloods start to fade really is too little new blood to let the forms flourish, so it cripples the legacy. The blood turns on it's own self to keep the wizard from being crippled or deformed as happens without magic. The problem with that is it comes at the expense of power and knowledge that could be. Blood gifts as they're called. Abilities to change appearance, to sense things, to speak other tongues. To have a gift in potions..my own family we can make wands which is a very complicated business. It cannot be properly taught, there needs to be that affinity in the blood. So yes, you've likely woken things in your blood that give your knowledge and senses of things far beyond your years. Keep that silent.. oh! Never let anyone get the blood from your veins or even cold and dried upon the floor or a bandage if you can avoid it..or hair clippings. Toenails are a bunch of rubbish, but blood, skin, saliva, any fluid of you is dangerous. Hair long enough to be woven as well..."

He began to rub his jaw in thought. "When I first started, was some years ago. Not so old as your history..but perhaps.." He got up then and went to dig around in the kitchen of all things. Then again, there was always that space in every kitchen that was unwieldy and useless save to put things you never really used. Sure enough a bag was pulled out from a cupboard side where it didn't quite meet flush with the wall, and Olivander walked over.

"I regret to say these are ugly for the most part, and clumsy..and as you can see I have not treated them as kindly. They lack cores..and were my practice works. I was not much older then you when I first learned at the knee of my father, how to begin to craft wands. So these are ugly and without cores but much as accidental magic can be sometimes more powerful then any feat a wizard can do when he learns control..these wands will never be matched for raw power..I did not know how to control what I was doing."

He smiled and shrugged, holding out the bag. "Reach in."

For all that he said that, it was clear Olivander didn't really expect this to work. Thus again, the wandmaker's face was hilarious as Harry had just set his hand over the entrance to the bag when a gnarled bit of wood practically hit his hand..and then a second one. Blinking Harry looked them over, then tilted his head to Olivander.

"Ummm?"

Oh yes. Harry could be so eloquent.

Olivander blinked, then took the two wands back. "precisely 9 inches, very rigid, lightning struck tree..though I never knew what type." It was not a pretty wand. It was blackened for all it had been polished and lacquered with some sort of oil. It looked jagged and vicious but it was smooth to the touch, not a decoration to be seen. It did however, feel cool...that same comforting cool as rested against his side. Eyes wide Harry swished the wand and it let fall a familiar eerie fog.

"This isn't mine..." He said breathless, and set it beside him. "Rhoswen..somehow..." His hound looked curious, and nosed the wand, which seemed to shimmer, before ceasing. "Olivander, sir, I don't know how..but you made a wand for my hound."

Olivander blinked. "Well it makes sense that it works for you then, since you're bound. I suggest you keep it, and hidden. A second wand can save your life..but don't say a word about it..now the other.."

The other had several unfinished forms. They were clearly meant to look like something but carved by a beginner. One looked like it was to be a face but was almost looking like it was calling out, another a curve of a wing, if he tilted it another way it looked like a claw. There were swirls of natural wood grain that seemed to pull his eyes along, shifting a bit from whatever oil had been used on it. Harry figured he could spend days trying to see all the partially thought items that made up the wand.

It was warm and soothing in his hand, curling against the coil of ice in his veins and not fighting it but all but thrumming. Smiling Harry swished the wand, in the right hand where he'd grasped the second again in his left. This time there was a joyful song, one that made Harry close his eyes. It was ethereal, it was haunting..and though he'd never heard it in person Harry -knew- this was the sound of a joy filled sidhe.

It was his wand.

"Eleven and a quarter inches.." Olivander looked amused. "Holly. I guess that wood makes sense considering.."

Harry nodded then and chuckled. "You didn't think they'd work because they don't have cores, right sir?"

Olivander nodded, then shrugged as the answer hit him. "Because of your bond, you have the core in your veins ...that's why the holly works for you. And because your hound died long before using cores was understood..the wand that's rough and old suits her. Curious.." Olivander smiled then and shook his head.

"No charge, no don't give me that expression mr. Potter and lady hound. You have taught me something without price, something I could have never learned. You are taking wands that I should be ashamed to see the light for the way they are so clumsy and inept.."

"No." Harry cut him off and smiled. "I won't tell you details but my hound's is...it's perfect for her. Really it is. And mine.." He looked at the strange wand, not quite this and not quite that. "What better for me? I'm a muggle raised wizard who has a Cyn Annwn.. I'm not something ever known. I like this wand. I like how it seems so simple..from a distance no one would even see the carvings..but depending on who looks at them I bet they'd have different interpretations. Thank you Olivander, but I love them."

The rest of the days shopping was done swiftly, and upon returning to the muggle world Harry stopped into a store briefly to get one important thing.

It set Rhoswen howling with laughter, and even Aunt Petunia let out a few giggles. Peeking back at him half asleep from his efforts from shopping, luckily everything in a trunk in the back of the car below his feet..Harry dozed on the way home.

Oblivious to his aunt's constant giggles as she checked in the rear view mirror at every stop to see the sight of her nephew clutching a plastic pink wand with streamers and a tinsel star.


	7. Better Be

WD This is a chapter I'm not certain I am happy with, but the next one is already demanding I work on it so I am leaving this alone.

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The day he left for school had been rather odd. He and Dudley both agreed the fact they started at 11 seemed pointless. Harry had been doing magic for years, why didn't they start sooner instead of between transition out of the most elementary of schooling? Back the year he turned his teacher's hair blue would have been nice! Dudley was thrilled by the weird wand Harry had brought back, and when Harry explained his plans for the Glinda wand as the concoction of pink had come to be called, well...

Dudley was very glad he was used to doing his laundry at that point and that Harry wouldn't ever tell that he'd made his cousin laugh so hard he wet himself. It was a bit odd for the cousins, they were allies, in the oldest sense of the word. They knew they could depend on each other, liked each other. There was a level of camaraderie and trust that while they wouldn't have said friends perhaps, they were at ease. It had only built over Harry's advice on how to get pocket money for Dudley, and teaching him to do his own laundry. The fact that Harry was content to let Dudley be Dudley but never quailed in fear. They had a good alliance.

His relationship with his uncle was odd. It was more like his uncle just pretended he wasn't there, but any time he'd been ratted out for being -helpful- to Dudley, Harry had found a pound note make it's way into his hand at the end of the month when Dudley's substantial allowance was given. It was in it's own way, his uncle's form of affection.

His aunt Petunia had always been considerate if not affectionate. She'd made sure he had what he needed, been a bit harsh and strict perhaps but never cruel. His aunt had blossomed with the memories of her own special kind of history that her father had passed down, and it was like being reminded of what an Evans-daughter was had soothed something festering all this time deep within Petunia. She spoke softer, and Harry and Dudley were half disgusted half amused as Vernon and Petunia fell in love all over again.

Adults were weird.

At some point before Harry left he and Dudley swore a oath-bond that Dudley found in the book of Evans, one that was common. Just a reminder that "Blood of my Blood, my hand will be there if needed." They felt very grown up doing it. It had been Dudley's idea to actually draw blood, but he was too scared to, so he just picked a scab off his knee, and Harry one off his elbow. It wasn't very dramatic but that was completely not the point. Vernon caught them and the sound of a walrus running off sniggering to try and hide his guffaws at the very serious pair of little boys was completely ignored.

So the whole family saw Harry off, and Dudley promised to write him but could he -please- make sure the owls only came late? Harry pulled aunt Petunia aside and whispered that if she just made sure the letters were on his bed, that once a week he'd make sure they were exchanged, and no one would see. Petunia's eyes had gone wide and she was about to ask how..when she caught a glimpse of the ghostly hound at Harry's side. Understanding, and not wanting to ask directly, she just nodded. She'd seen Rhoswen enough over the years to be at ease. After all this was a power she understood thanks to their books and history, this was something that was not so 'freakishly Lily's' and untouchable. Petunia was a loyal member of the Church, but it was something special to their family and just always felt right. The Evans-hound as she'd started telling Dudley it was, going off the guardian angel idea, was a sign all was right. She had no idea, and Harry never intended to enlighten her. He had agreed at one point though that she -was- a guardian ancestor. That was all he'd said and let it be.

Rhoswen still grumbled that why would she want a harp and wings?

He had insisted his family drive off, not wanting the Dursley's uncomfortable as he knew they would be waiting for him to make it on the train. Rhoswen could see the hidden entry and so Harry calmly walked by following her. They were early and so after being awed by the lovely red express, he found himself a nice compartment.

"I kind of wonder...will I have to sacrifice training? I mean with the schedule? And I do wish I didn't have to talk out loud for you to hear me!"

Rhoswen lounged on the other side of the compartment, tongue lolling out in amusement. ~you can whisper to where you can almost not hear it. I have much better ears after all. Eventually, perhaps as an adult you should be strong enough to project your thoughts to me. Let's focus on you getting good enough I can take a solid form more often hmm?~

Harry giggled at that and nodded, digging out his book on ancient runes, and muttering under his breath as the versions they used were like and unlike the ones Rhoswen taught him. For one, he'd long since been told that though the runes had absolute meanings, when -reading- or crafting with them it depended more on the person. A perfect example was like the rune Sowilo upon his brow. That rune could symbolize lightning, or change, or power, or a million things. It now also to him and Rhoswen, and likely the wizarding world at large, meant Harry Potter. That was just the sheer basics, not getting into elements, animals, trees, days, time of month, and ever so much more. Rhoswen had been encouraging Harry to find his own meanings as the Wyrd would always have it's path, but his way to it would be different. The way they considered runes in Rhoswen's time versus now, was entirely different. He figured when he was able to take the class he'd probably have a devil of a time, or breeze through it.

Various people came and went, a few mentioned how Harry Potter was on the train. Harry ignored them all, reading his book though he'd look up and say hello. Rhoswen encouraged him to not allow people to know who he was just yet, at least not until his name would be called in classes. People tended to reveal motives if they didn't know to put on their masks to you. So the few times someone asked his name, he gave it as Harry Evans-son. No one blinked. A bushy haired witch and her toad losing friend just sighed and smiled at him before resuming their search. A red haired boy peeked in but after a cheery hi said he had to look for someone, that his mom demanded he be social to help them out his first year. A blond boy who was very full of himself and flanked by two goons that made Dudley look like a scientific genius sneered at him though they couldn't figure out if Evan-son was wizarding name or not. Harry had just raised a brow and returned to his book, dismissing them. Really he had no interest in the silly games of children. He was going to school to learn, not to prance around with false airs. If even he tried, he'd get a pair of ghostly teeth in his trousers he was certain.

In general people left him alone.

Then the door opened again, and this time there was a rather hefty girl with lank black hair and a cold expression. She was almost troll like, and had a cruel appearance that was betrayed by her dark brown eyes. Rhoswen let out a soft whine and Harry gave the girl a smile. This was someone who was guarded, hurt, wounded even. She projected cruelty as a means of defense and if he'd learned anything from Dudley, it was that often it was to bite back the tears as people teased for ones size.

"I'm sorry didn't know this one was taken.."

"Please. You are welcome to join me."

The girl's eyes went wide and her body trembled, it was the same look Dudley got the first time Harry promised to help him find a beloved trinket without being threatened.

"No strings. I'm a bit bored, as much as I like the books, seems silly to start without a guideline. Everyone else seems to be searching for someone and I'm feeling a bit like refuse." Harry grinned at that and the girl smiled, relaxing a bit and nodded. After her trunk was stowed she sat across from him, Rhoswen now at their feet.

"Millicent Bulstrode. Thanks." She was still wary, probably thinking he'd pick on her. Rhoswen nudged him and Harry understood immediately. If he gave Millicent a false name and she learned otherwise, she'd be thinking he tricked her. This was the kind of person who never forgave such behavior.

"Millicent, can you promise to keep a secret? For now at least?"

Millicent narrowed her eyes and so Harry held up his hands with a sigh. "Please? It won't cost you anything.."

"Maybe."

Well that was better then a No. "I've been telling everyone I was Harry Evans-son because I don't like how everyone seems to think they know me, and I wanted to see if they were just going to put me on. Every person left instead of joining me when they found that out. Seems silly though to keep it from a train buddy though isn't it? My name is Harry Potter." He gave her a smile then and watched as the information that he'd given that to -her- and no one else, and Millicent had seen Draco strut off from the compartment after Pansy had kicked her out in case Draco wanted to sit with her. Some friend Pansy was. Dark eyes went wide and her pudgy fingers grabbed at her robe tightly.

"Why?"

Harry just smiled. "Because you joined me, just with me being me. That shows you're a better person then a lot of them."

Rhoswen watched as the girls eyes began to water, though she smiled, and felt that shifting of fate's fabric. Little did Harry or Millicent know that their entire futures had changed, but Rhoswen didn't even pay attention to the tell tale shifts anymore. One ceased when you had been a Hound for so long, especially since Gwyn Ap Nudd did love to meddle. The two black haired children began to chatter, and Rhoswen lay her head down on her paws, not able to sleep, instead just letting her awareness settle in a foggy state of memories.

"So I'll probably be a Slytherin, it kind of runs in the family. I'm not A Gryffindor that's for sure, and I'm not too fond of books..I prefer action."

Harry smiled at her and tilted his head. "I like being active, I'm hoping to take some fighting lessons when I'm older though I got taught a few basics with a fighting staff and how to run and some basic exercises, but I like books. I guess because you can learn stuff people don't always want you to know from them."

Millicent blinked. "Fighting with a staff?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, mostly swinging it, how to block with it..eventually I can use it to hopefully knock someone off their feet and the nice thing is no one really thinks of a big stick as a weapon."

Millicent tilted her head in thought. "You know, I bet you could even get one that folded up real small, so it was easy to hide..maybe about the length of your wand. My father would know. I can write home and ask?"

"I'd like that."

"Um. That is.."

Harry blinked and then guessed what she was too shy to ask, it wasn't very ladylike after all. "If you ever want to join me you can but I'm not sure how or when I'll fit it in at school. It's sweaty hard work but I like knowing I can probably get out of a jam and I bet few Wizards would expect a physical approach!"

"That is what my dad always says!" Millicent's eyes lit up and Harry knew she was daddy's little tomboy. Probably part of why she had weight issues, her mother probably picked on her all the time. "He used to say if I'd been born a boy I'd be a great fighter."

"Well that's silly. Girls can be warriors too! Don't give me that look, you've heard of the amazons? The Celts had warriors that were women, the Vikings had shield maidens. Really you may never be as strong because girls bodies are built different but you can be a serious threat!" Harry huffed, his arms crossed and then blinked. Millicent was giving him an awed look, and Rhoswen's tail was wagging and he could just about -hear- her pride in him.

"well..they can..."

Millicent just beamed at him. "I've got your back, Harry!" It was said with a fierce light in her eyes and Harry suddenly realized just how dangerous she would be one day. So with absolute solemnity he nodded.

"It'll be my honor someday." He held out his hand then and smiled. "But really, remind me some day we have off to tell you about my family history...there's a reason I said I was Evans-son."

Millicent smiled and pumped his hand with a grip that was almost painful, and he bet she was being gentle too! "Likewise. I don't care if they're not pure blood, though I may have to pretend..Slytherin are kinda..stuck up on that. My mum is too."

Harry grinned at her. "Well, they won't know what hit them huh?"

The compartment filled with their laughter all the way to Hogwarts. By the time they came to the boats, Harry was offering his hand to Millicent and she smiled at him. Didn't blush, but smiled. She'd explained something of pure blood behavior on the way over so if he felt it he could fake it just enough. She promised him plenty of advice and lessons as dealing with pure bloods was a crazy archaic game. Harry of course picked up on most of it easily, because he was in training to deal with the fae races, not that he could inform Millicent of that. There was another shy and quiet gangly student who joined them, but Harry was too busy speaking in low voices with Millicent as she actually had been told by her parents what to expect. He was learning that Mr. Bulstrode may not have been of a noble house, but they were ancient. They'd intermarried with plenty of affluent houses in the past, but her father was a serious man who back in the day would have been a warlord. Battles and tactics were his forte, and so he'd stayed out of the last war by all but packing up and going back to Germany to handle family 'business' that conveniently took until the war was over. Millicent had already told Harry she'd be considered second class amongst the pure blood's who valued the side of Voldemort for that and expected to be ignored mostly. When Harry had squeezed her hand and said then they would really not know what hit them when she was ready to prove herself, Millicent had nearly broken his ribs with a hug. So Millicent had no idea the great service she'd done when she whispered about the house ghosts and the hat, as Rhoswen had leapt ahead, and wasn't that strange seeing a Cyn Annwn walk on water itself only lending to the fog amongst the black currents. While Millicent and Harry exchanged soft words about their subjects Rhoswen gracefully set foot in a different part of Hogwarts, easily finding the ghosts.

They were alarmed of course, as they could see her. Had Rhoswen the desire she could have dragged them beyond, though they were not ready. Instead she sat, long tail curled around her feet. ~Thou can hear me?~

All four proper ghosts nodded, speechless, even Peeves was shaking and silent. Rhoswen bared her teeth to make it clear the next bit was a command. ~I am bound to a bairn of my blood. I guard him, I follow and none shall see who are not of the fae races in blood or alliances. Not a word, as I shall only act if he is in danger.~

As one the five ghosts relaxed and then it was the fat friar who spoke softly, keeping his voice on the ethereal plane where no one would hear them. "You will meet no resistance with us. Though Peeves will play tricks so no one notices. There are a few here who may see, of the children though, none to our knowledge are of creature blood. That is no longer considered favorable and many are brought down to mockeries of the tales. We will inform the only staff member right away, if there is a danger to Hogwarts, will you help us protect it?"

Rhoswen tilted her head, and her voice rumbled again, it was a cold sound and one that sent shivers down the undead spines before her. That partially amused Rhoswen for Harry found her voice to be a comfort. ~I am bound to my blood, but I serve the lord of the Wild Hunt first. Each case will be answered in turn, though for the time that my boy resides here, if there is a hunt to the school which threatens him, aye, I see not why I should stand aside.~

The Grey lady inclined her head and floated off swiftly, they had mere minutes before the children finished the trip over the lake after all. Her words were whispered into Flitwick's ear, his eyes wide though he hid it looking into his goblet. It was not the first, and surely not the last time the daughter of Rowena would keep invisible save for her faint voice, pitched below tones the human ear could detect. Only his goblin heritage two generations in the past allowed Filius to pick up those words. Still he felt awe, for such deep magics were of the old ways and ones that almost made a flush of shame, that he had long neglected his own fae heritage for the sake of the wizard. He hummed an agreement, not that anything else could be expected.

The coblynau of his powers, that which had made them so formidable when he dueled, demanded it.

Filius watched the children arrive and begin to chatter with his usual expression, eager, though a touch more so as he watched, strained almost with his smaller form, lithe and tiny as he was barely more in size then many of the children though like all the coblynau perfectly proportioned. There! As the ghosts did their usual entrance he noticed a whisp, a flicker..and then he had to fight the gasp as he saw the regal form, no small hound this! He'd always imagined the Cyn Annwn to be smaller, normal sized. Perhaps like a whippet. This was an immense one, the length of the coat giving proof that either the Cyn Annwn were not all the same in appearance or that great artistic license had been taken by the artists of old. The muzzle was long enough to evoke thoughts of a wolf and the fur seemed thick and luxurious, fine enough bits of it lifted and wafted about as it moved, the tail long and full, trailing into the mists. It was a spectral creature though there was no mistaking the deep red of it's ears, that of blood spewing fresh from the veins turning to rich crimson upon touching the air. And that hound, that creature that made Filius's own blood cry out in despair and pain that it had been ignored so long, brushed against a child. A small framed child that carried himself with a confidence and easy rolling movement that did not scream it did not know it's place in the world. That boy with his longer dark hair almost imperceptibly moved into the touch of the spectral figure beside him, a motion that would be ignored as shifting weight if one could not see with coblynau vision. There was no doubt in Filius's mind who that boy was. The eyes so green that evoked not the killing curse as there was no doubt many a comparison to come. Nor even the eyes of his mother, as amazing a student as she had been. Those were the eyes, shifting and fae of the aurora borealis when it tinged green. That was the green of the moss that lined the legendary caves under-hill of the coblynau great halls. It was the green of the shoots of fairy plants, the flames of the pooka. Nothing properly living as a human could have eyes such as that, and Filius found himself craving answers, time.

Unaware of his watchers, and there were quite a few, Harry continued to talk with Millicent, currently discussing the virtues of the three permitted pets. Millicent had a cat he found out, and Harry was quite curious. He did tease her if it was a proper black witches cat, and she laughed, apparently aware of the muggle superstition and confirmed that indeed, she was. He was just relieved that Rhoswen was not the sort to go chasing cats, though apparently she had a thing for vermin that made Harry roll his eyes.

"Really though, why a toad? I mean way to be useless..."

"Well I suppose for the boys to have something. I can't think of why not a lizard though if that was the case, an owl is useful, a cat can help detect spells and magic and even calm you with the purring..but a toad just wets on you and such.."

Harry stifled his laughter then and fell silent as names began to be called. Millicent was indeed in Slytherin and Harry just waited, noticing that it seemed the houses were divided. Well that was silly. Still none of these other names meant a thing to him so he just waited..then McGonagall paused at the E's and then resumed. Harry blinked and tilted his head, looking down at Rhoswen who gave him a look that clearly said 'I'm just a dog. Don't ask me!"

Harry Potter!"

Harry walked up, calmly ignoring all the whispers. Really if they believed anything from the books and stories about him, they were too stupid to be worth caring what they thought. Rhoswen sat at his feet as the hat dropped on him, musty and yet tasting of power. Power that left a feeling of warm spices and crusty rye bread upon his tongue.

"Oh my! You can -taste- powers young one? That's quite rare..even if only sometimes, my my my..and so many secrets..so much..where to put you. Slytherin would help you do great things you know? Hufflepuff though, very loyal...and of course Gryffindor for the brave..."

Harry could tell it wanted him to state a preference to see what he thought but Harry just responded calmly. "Where is it that I'd do the best in, and gain the most? I imagine we all have all the traits to some degree so I presume this is less the traits predominate and more those that we are to cultivate?"

"Ha! Well you just landed yourself..no no boy not there..better be RAVENCLAW!"

"Why? I mean what..."

But the hat was gone and Harry huffed, then gave McGonagall a look. "It didn't answer my question!"

For some reason, the hall had been silent upon the announcement but at Harry's remark Filius burst out laughing. "You are one of mine all right!"

The entire table of Ravenclaw's began to cheer and wave him over, making Harry blush over his outburst. He went and sat at the end, after sneaking a smile to Millicent and not caring whom saw. Harry chose the end for a reason, it was easier for Rhoswen to be near. The rest of the sorting went swiftly, and Harry was all too glad to eat and answer his riddle before finding his way to his room. He shared with the others, and the usual warning and adjustments that were always present in any situation occurred. Altered perhaps for this particular setting but it was pretty simple. Be nice, be helpful, don't get in trouble and don't break the rules is essentially what it all boiled down to. Also, the need to answer a riddle to get in. That Harry knew he'd have to work on. He was more a selective knowledge learner but it was likely the riddles were in an age or person appropriate fashion and he could get advice on ones to learn in preparation. His roommates were kind enough though everyone after a brief get to know you session was content to get ready to sleep and settle in with a book. Harry had read enough on the train to have his head swimming from everything. Not to mention all that Millicent had told him. Still...he looked down at Rhoswen and smiled, before happily flopping into his bed.

The rest could wait until tomorrow. Harry was many things, but first and foremost he was still a child and if he was going to have some fun settling in he needed his rest. Glinda's wand was waiting in his trunk, after all.


	8. Swish -and-Flick!

WD: Yeah I have a lot more to go but if I didn't upload this I wouldn't get a chance for another week. Enjoy!

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Harry found himself awake very early the next day, and all but bouncing in excitement. He kept getting funny looks from Rhoswen, but he did not fill her in so she ignored him in favor of a good scratching session. Regardless of how human once she was, the hound could -not- resist a good belly and ear scratch from Harry and his tiny fingers. It was a humorous sight, dog twitching and taking up almost the entire bed as Harry muffled his laughter. Especially considering Rhoswhen had her tail completely hanging over one end of the bed just to fit. Tongue lolling, green eyes flickering back at him in mischief, Harry loved seeing her just relax. Then it was all business and she reminded him of everything he would need, she would decrease that aid slowly unless he was having a sick day or the like so he never became so dependent on Rhoswen it was crippling. She wanted him independent and he adored her for it. Harry skipped down to breakfast early, having made note of the portraits and to his luck, a pretty nasty Peeves started to harass him.

"Look an icklie Firstie! Haha.." Peeves raised his hand to do some mischief but Harry paused and waved.

"Hello. My name is Harry, what is yours?"

"Peeves. The great terror of the Halls!" Before Peeves could resume his nasty harassment though Harry just tilted his head.

"Really? So you know -every- hall way, hiding spot? Everything?"

Peeves puffed up his chest and Harry gave a bow. "It is my pleasure to meet you then Peeves, perhaps you would show me the way to the great hall and tell me how you got the name, the Great Terror?"

If Peeves hadn't enough of an ego to do so, the half remembered warning and the sudden sight of Rhoswen as she came slinking through a wall, having been scouting around, certainly made him decide to behave. He did not wish to attract her attention, there was a fluidity to how the hound moved, even as Harry unconsciously rubbed her ears. That same rolling gait betrayed her as an accomplished hunter, one that Peeves had no hope to escape if she decided to call him prey. If you couldn't harass a first year, best to make use of him in other ways.

"Ever hear of a dung bomb?"

"Sounds unpleasant, Peeves. Still not I am sure the crux of your genius?"

Peeves wracked his brain before he remembered a time before the Mauraders, and the ease of accessing Filch's store of nasty confiscated items. A time when he'd actually needed to be clever and the teachers were not off limits for pranks. He began to regale Harry with a short tale, coupled with insane screeching laughter, of how he had once snuck a mouse charmed from transfiguration into the seventh year hufflepuff girl's dorms. Harry couldn't help it he had to laugh. Especially when Peeves said he tried the boys the next day and they screamed just as loudly.

Once Breakfast was done, and Harry for the most part just stayed silent and listened to the talk around him, he held a nice shiny little time table.

Oooh this was gonna be good...

Little did Harry James Potter Evans-son and bound to a Cyn Annwn, future changer of the magical world and savior of many, know it at that precise moment, but he looked just like his dad about to pull off some truly crazy scheme. Rhoswen sighed, sure that Lily was looking over her shoulder in the afterworld sensing the impending insanity. Oh well, she had a nice fore paw view for it.

The first class was in Charms. It couldn't have gone more perfectly if Harry had actually bowed his head and begged whatever deities and spirits were listening. Professor Flitwick was Coblynau to some degree and Harry's smile had been beaming at him as he entered. A tiny nod and smile, oddly pained, from the petite professor had Harry twitching his feet in the shape of letters of the alphabet once seated. He was desperate to keep from properly fidgeting. Not that he ever made it past the letter Q, he just kept getting distracted by eagerness, biding his time. Rhoswen was sniffing around inspecting the room, utterly curious as she had after all not really explored last night and was new to the wonders of the advanced wizarding world. Pictures that moved were highly amusing, funny gadgets and things that she was very tempted to try to knock over. Finally however she was back at Harry's side and noticed there was a strange bulge in his sleeve, as if he had something up it.

Finally Flitwick finished his introduction and explained before they would begin a proper spell he wanted them to get used to rolling their wrists about and would they please take out their wands and begin making circles.

With a complete flourish out came Glinda, streamers trailing a glittering path as Harry twisted and twirled, now over head and now to the side. A dancing show of plastic and metal spray painted with cheap pink paint and flecks of glitter. The class was silent and Flitwick squeaked.

"Ah Mr...Potter..is that your wand?"

"Why, yes professor. It is -one- of my wands. This is Glinda! Isn't she lovely? I figured since it was just motions anyways I may as well use one that was far more enjoyable. See if I do this.." He twirled it rapidly again, the fluttering streamers making a bit of noise. "Do you wish a try?"

The classroom erupted in laughter and Flitwick joined them, laughing so much he fell off his chair and Harry resumed twirling his wand with a smile.

"Swish and Flick is -much- more fun with a visual, professor.."

"Now I wish I had one! Can I give it a try Potter?" Said the short haired asian girl next to him also a Ravenclaw, her eyes crinkling in a smile. Harry beamed back at her and nodded, handing it over.

"Li right?"

"Sue Li, yes." It took her a moment to twirl the wand without the streamers catching and then she giggled, which had several others, puffs and claws alike begging to use it. Flitwick's eyes caught how Sue was much more precise in her movements, having to watch out for the streamers which was an accidental breakthrough of sorts.

"Mr. Potter, if you would bring your wand up here please?" Flitwick fought not to smile at the chorus of 'awww' from half the class, and did not miss that even the boys who would have made fun of his pink pretty wand, were eying it like they too wanted a go.

Harry walked calmly down, twirling his wand from side to side and over head as if it was a baton. He'd let Dudley play with it in the weeks before he'd come to school and Dudley had been able to treat it like a circus act. Harry had made him practice with sticks first of course, he didn't wand Glinda damaged. Once Dudley had it though he had been consistently beset by Harry begging to be shown how to do it. Since Dudley had been in on the 'well yes this is one of my wands' act from the start, the big oaf of a cousin he had was all too pleased. Frankly he figured even Uncle Vernon would be beaming at them for throwing the magical folk off a bit. He bowed and swept an arm out before handing Glinda over to his professor, making the class laugh. He had no idea how much like his father he was at that moment and Flitwick smiled. The tiny professor gave the wand a few tries himself, his long abilities with charms and dueling allowing him to twist and twirl it in intricate patterns that seemed magical all in their own with the pattern moving so swiftly it left trails of lights from the glitter reflecting behind. He may have added a few unnecessary flourishes to enjoy the "ooohs" and even a few "Go Professor!" from his class. Inspection done he handed the wand back, and transfigured a parchment into a matching, if purple wand. He then smiled at Harry and lifted a brow.

"Now since we are going to be practicing motions, and it does force you to pay -very- close attention..who would like to try one of Mr. Potter's lovely wands?"

Filius was forced to transfigure his entire stack of parchment as wands of purple and yellow and blue soon were in the hands of the students, who were very eager to play the game. Since this was the two most overlooked houses, Filius felt no shame in favoring them by telling all the students not to mention the special wands to any of the houses, and he would let them have them whenever they learned a new wand movement. There was quite a cheer and Filius was bemused, but very delighted watching a certain student beaming as he swished away with Sue Li, pink streamers trailing behind.

And here Filius thought the hound watching all of them as if they were off their rockers from below the table would be the most surprising thing about Mr. Potter.

The end of class saw all the wands turned back with a swish of Flitwick's normal wand and the students trailing out, one person though, a Mr. Goldstein if Flitwick remembered his roster correctly, asked a question that had the dual class halt before they opened the door.

"Hey Potter, is Glinda coming out in all your classes?"

Harry turned and winked, the pink wand already up his sleeve again. "Only if I can fit her in right. I figure I will also keep her around to deal with any hot heads who want to try and get me in trouble. Oh what professor? Me dueling in the hallway? With -this-?" Harry answered with a large innocent expression, and Flitwick had to marvel at how Harry had turned something so perfect to be humiliated by, into a guaranteed weapon against any trying to harass him. With one class he'd gotten all the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years on his side and fans of Glinda.

It was like he'd planned to have some way to irritate other students and be certain that not only did they remember him for something other then surviving the killing curse, but preferred it. Flitwick blinked then and his mouth opened slightly.

Oh yes. Harry Potter belonged in his house indeed!

Rhoswen gave a dip of her head to the diminutive professor as she followed Harry out, the muggleborn trying to explain why Harry's wand would be called Glinda, much to the laughter of the others. Harry solved it by suggesting they all grab some copies of Wizard of Oz to pass around the two common rooms, which the Hufflepuff ignored but the Ravenclaw got that scary determined look to them like sharks scenting blood.

He did love his little brainiacs.

Herbology proved useless so far as bringing out Glinda, but Goldstein sat beside him and they began a friendly chatter as they worked. Pomona Sprout was delighted as she watched the students not sequester themselves into small groups, but getting up and moving to say hello, and help each other. This was why she adored her Puffs, and the claws. True the Ravenclaw's were usually more on par with the Slytherin when it came to their intelligence, but what most people forgot was the Ravenclaw's saw no reason to constantly have to plot through their elegant snake companions (even if few actually measured up to their own ideas of grandeur) certainly one could hold a vicious intellectual conversation with any Slytherin if it was a topic of their interest. However, one could not begrudge the hard working and kind hearted puffs. They were often looked down on, forgetting that in the line from Helga Hufflepuff "I'll Take them all" was the words that meant she would nuture all who needed it. They were not the unwanted, they were the ones who preferred to learn themselves outside of foolish guidelines and barriers. The hufflepuff were unwavering friends, and slow to anger but with a sense of justice so deep because they learned to depend on each other, that many became suited to Aurors and medics.

Susan Bones seemed quite taken with Sue Li, probably because Sue Li was an ambassador's daughter and Susan the neice of the head of the DMLE. Which meant when Sue brought shy sweet Susan over to meet Harry...

Well there was suddenly a chorus of students singing in her class. Bemused Pomona watched as singing, they continued marking down the items at the various work stations to become familiar with them.

"Oh We're off to see the Wizard!"

Even the purebloods, and half bloods picked up on it easily. The Hufflepuffs who were a bit slower had no problem becoming a veritable background chorus of that one line over and over as the giggles and music took over. Though Pomona had to admit she was clueless when Terry Boot leaned over and curtsied, looking foolish with dirt on his nose.

"You're a Good Witch Harry!"

Again the room erupted in laughter and Harry shoved Terry kindly, his eyes dancing. Not once had a student glanced at his forehead. The one thing that had him a little disappointed was he did not have a single Slytherin class for two days. He didn't want Millicent to think he had forgotten her. Waiting until everyone was hurriedly scrawling in their books he wrote a quick note and smiled, giving his best teary eyes to Rhoswen. She grumbled at him, but took the scrap of paper in her teeth anyways and scampered off. He couldn't get into that much trouble when every five minutes someone would break out into the song again and set off giggles.

Rhoswen moved through Hogwarts with ease, some walls you could go through, some you couldn't. Mere wizard wards did not detect her but she respected the ones HogWarts had up elsewhere. The ancient castle was mildly sentient, and had it's fair share of secrets. Rhoswen respected it. More then a few portraits went wide eyed seeing her, but the ghosts had ensured not a one would talk. Not even to the headmaster as frankly this was not his business. Not a soul, undead or otherwise, wished the ire of a protective hound.

As it was easy enough to find Millicent, she'd spent the ride over in the same compartment after all, she was somewhat amused to see the student looking irritated if anything in a class that had them all speaking as if they had something uncomfortable poking into their backsides. Not that Rhoswen knew, or cared, and so simply walked over to where Millicent was doing her best to ignore the rather loud and shrieky voice of Pansy Parkinson as she recited. Easily slipping the note onto Millicent's desk, Rhoswen then padded off, intending to go have a little chat with the charms professor. He kept giving her odd looks and Harry's class went on for a while.

Millicent looked down as they finished the latest pointless tongue twister to help the pureblooded Slytherin work on their behavior. These were secretive mandatory classes, and she loathed them. These classes only expounded on her mother's ideals, that of a woman as vapid and simpering to the needs of her husband. One was only to have personality after the security of bearing an heir and even then only in private, looking away when he had his affairs and none of their own. She much preferred her father's behavior, thinking Millicent was a smart thing in her own right. He'd taken his wife away during the last war which had gained no end of harassment, considering he was a known tactical genius. He'd not been an auror but a hit wizard, called in when things went truly south. That department had been done away with after the war, people wanting to pretend such events never happened. Bullstrode had known if he stayed he would be forced to choose a side, which was a losing endeavor politically. He would not do that, and so he'd simply left. Conveniently been offered a chance in Germany to train in combat wards by an older eccentric who had survived Grindlewald and didn't buy into the equally farcical all is good and rainbows bit the light families often seemed to find comfort in. Millicent didn't know who she was or what she wanted, yet. She was working on that. She saw the note and blinked, that hadn't been there. As they were waiting on the boys to finish their latin tongue teasers now, she unfolded it and gave off a very unladylike happy grin.

It was short, choppy, and utterly heartfelt and for that Millicent thought it worth more then gold.

-Hey Millie, I think everyone is convinced I am nuts. We have History in two days, will save you a seat! Why don't we have more classes together?- H.

Millie tucked it away carefully in her bag and for the rest of the lesson had a hard time speaking properly since she couldn't seem to make her smile fade and it distorted the words. Though Harry was going to get a talking to, calling her Millie!


End file.
